


Heavy Petting

by Feral_Fic_Writer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breeding, Castiel is reluctant to love, Collars, Cultural Bestiality, Dean Needs A Hug, Dean Needs Castiel, Dean Needs Love, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Is it 'dehumanization' if humans are already considered animals?, Leashes, M/M, Master/Pet, Mentions of past abuse, Muzzles, Pet Play (kind of), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, castiel needs Dean, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8484169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feral_Fic_Writer/pseuds/Feral_Fic_Writer
Summary: AU where Angels/Demons rule and humans are considered and kept as animals.Life in shambles, Castiel has reluctantly taken a position at his family's rescue kennel, although he himself has never understood why the rest of his clan has such an interest in humans. This might change however, when a damaged, green-eyed carrier named Dean is brought under the rescue's care. Will be updated sporadically.





	1. Introduction: The Pursuit of Yappiness

Castiel pulled into the lot, empty but for the rescue’s van. Just peeking over the distant horizon the morning sun cast a warm glow on the low brick building of the center. Grabbing the small hand-cooler containing his lunch he slid out of his car. While his body, on autopilot, locked up, his blue eyes swept over the vacant outdoor runs. Eventually they settled on the sign hanging over the kennel’s entrance.

_The Pursuit of Yappiness_

_Novak Human Rescue and Rehabilitation_

He shook his head. Why Gadreel had allowed Gabriel to select the name for the center Castiel still couldn’t fathom. Not that it had mattered much to him at the time: back then he’d had no intentions of ever getting involved in the family’s ‘humanitarian’ endeavors.

Now things were significantly different, however.

Huffing a soft sigh, he crossed the lot, his mind rolling through all the ways his life had gotten away from him. But after a few quick taps on the security keypad, he pushed away his melancholic thoughts and into the center’s quiet lobby.

In a few hours Novak rescue would be open and bustling, this room filled with the comings and goings of angels and demons looking for the perfect pet to add to their lives, a simple creature to cherish and care for.

It always amazed Castiel how emotional so many got over humans. Despite his family’s long history with breeding, showing, and rescue work, he himself had never really understood all the fuss. No matter how much they resembled their caretakers or how ‘clever’ they could be at times, humans had just never held much appeal for him.

And yet, now here he was, spending the majority of his waking hours with them.

Bypassing the empty reception desk, he ducked into the break room to stow his lunch and check the status of the automatic coffee maker. He needed caffeine if he was going to get through this day.

After filling two mugs with the strong, black brew he made his way further into the building, back to the center’s true administrative area. The door to the director’s office was ajar and Castiel heard the quiet ‘clicks’ of a keyboard. Mindful of the cup held in his hand, after giving the doorframe a couple soft raps, he stepped in even before Gadreel’s grumbled invitation reached his ears.

The room’s large windows allowed the early morning light to flood in. With a graveled “Good morning,” Castiel set one mug down on the desktop next to another already empty cup.

Knowing Gadreel wasn’t likely to respond until he’d finished whatever he was currently attending to, he settled into one of the chairs in front of the desk, waiting for his older brother to finish. Coffee held between his two hands, he regarded his sibling thoughtfully over the rim of his mug. Still not fully awake yet, his mind drifted until a soft growl caught his attention.  

Though Gadreel was known for his terseness the sound hadn’t come from him: the other angel’s eyes were still fixed on the screen in front of him. Shifting his gaze, Castiel glanced down at the source of the sound.

“What’s the matter, Robert?”

There was another light growl from the floor where the old human lay curled on his pillow in a sun-patch. Bobby squinted at Castiel suspiciously despite the fact he had been working at the center for three months now.

“That first growl may have been due to you ignoring him, but I can guarantee the second is because you insist on calling him ‘Robert’.” Without looking up, Gadreel patted a jean-clad thigh and clicked his tongue. “Enough of that racket, Bobby. Come here, boy.”

Castiel watched the human’s attention immediately shift to his brother. The growling ceased, the low deep grumble turning into a groan as Bobby pushed himself up from his cushion. It was clear the old man was stiff, his left leg in particular, where it had once been all but crushed by a demon’s kick. Slowly, Bobby crawled over and settled on his haunches with a grunt before leaning against Gadreel’s leg.

The human’s pot belly hung low when he crawled, but not nearly as much as his heavy balls. Castiel’s cheeks still inadvertently pinked seeing Bobby’s testes shift in their wrinkled brown sac as he moved. He knew he should have been well used to the sight of human organs by now, but he'd never quite gotten over just how much man's anatomy mirrored their own.

Beyond the similarity, it also wasn't generally well thought of to keep a non-breeding pet intact or unhindered. And regardless of Gadreel’s assurances that Bobby was well trained enough, and at an age where he was easily controlled with regards to a stud’s urges, it still made Castiel uncomfortable his brother had left his pet uncut and, for the last few years, uncaged as well.

He was grateful when Bobby finally sat. It helped his embarrassment that the old stud’s furred, chubby belly spilled over, all but covering his soft cock.

As if he could read his thoughts, Gadreel lifted his eyes from his screen to flicker a frown at Castiel before dropping one hand to scritch across Bobby’s fuzzy, freckled shoulders, while his other hand still continued to type.

Bobby, on the other hand, ignored Castiel completely now. Leaning into his master’s touch, his eyelids immediately dropped closed. Body reacting to the teasing drag of neatly clipped nails over naked skin, his jowly jaw trembled. A drop of saliva soon appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Curiosity and mild disgust twisted Castiel’s belly at this display.

Why Gadreel had attached himself to this particular human still puzzled him. True, Bobby, or 'Robert,' as the rusted tag on his worn collar had declared, was one of their family’s earliest rescue’s; pulled out from under the porch of a ramshackle house where he’d been chained in the midst of a demon’s junkyard. But even when he was still in his prime, the stud had been far from beautiful.

“You’ll have to do the morning feedings by yourself. Gabriel won’t be in until nine.”

Gadreel’s eyes had returned to his computer but Castiel caught a slight movement from the corner of his eye and his older brother's next words revealed he’d clearly glanced up at him long enough to have caught his unhappy scowl.

“Gabriel was working on that human pit-fighting case last night. Late. So I told him to sleep in this morning.”

Castiel heard the reprimand for his own ungenerous thoughts towards Gabriel, despite the neutrality of the words. Turning his attention away from Bobby and back to his “boss,” he kept his reply clipped and polite.

“Of course.”

He and Gadreel’s relationship had endured its share of strain and Castiel knew his older brother, as manager of the rescue, had taken him on with strong reservations. He didn’t disagree with Gadreel’s concerns, but while he certainly didn’t share the rest of his family’s enchantment with humans, right now he needed this position.

“Raphael and Samandriel relieved Gabriel from the stakeout. If they have to move in, they’ll call on him to join if there’s time. So, you should be prepared to cover the shift on your own at any time today, if need be.” Gadreel’s typing hand stopped and he looked up fully at Castiel for the first time that morning.

“You’ve been here long enough, you should have the routine down by now.”

Ignoring the unspoken criticism, Castiel merely nodded. As he stood to leave, his eyes couldn’t help but drop down to Bobby once more. While Gadreel had ceased typing, his other hand continued to scritch through the old human’s close-cropped hair.

Bobby was softly rumbling in pleasure. He quieted though and his eyes slitted open when his master stopped scratching and gave a light tug to the lobe of his ear.

“What do you say, Bobby? Would you like to go with Castiel? Huh, old pup? He’ll take you out in the yard with him. You can keep an eye on him for me too while he looks after the others.”

It still stunned Castiel how his brother’s normally stern voice became almost lilting when he spoke to humans, but despite Gadreel’s warm tones, Bobby was clearly not interested in the offer. Instead he gave a low huff, obviously displeased, and nudged his nose under his master’s fingers, trying to get the wondrous scratches going again.

When Gadreel didn’t resume, but turned his attention back to his computer, the old human leveled a glare at Castiel, seeming to hold him responsible for the loss of pleasing touch. He underscored this by lumbering back over to his cushion, and plopping down after his requisite three turns with a snort, settling his broad, hairy back to Castiel.

Gadreel glanced over, seeing his pet’s antics, one corner of his mouth curled in something that almost looked to be amusement. Shifting his eyes to Castiel, his lips slipped back into a straight, taut line.

“I hope you’re having better luck connecting to the rest of our wards.”

The too familiar serpent of failure slithered in Castiel’s gut, but he kept his expression still, his voice steady, “I’m doing my best, Brother.”

These words garnered a disbelieving eyebrow raise from Gadreel and a dismissing flicker of his hands. It was annoying, but Castiel was relieved to be spared another lecture on the ‘Word’ as it pertained to human/Higher relationships.

He didn’t escape Gadreel’s preaching entirely, however. He was halfway out the door when his older brother called out behind him, “Remember, Castiel, as much as they need us, we need them too.”

Castiel didn’t bother to reply. Shrugging the admonition off with a flex of his shoulders, he closed the door to Gadreel’s office behind him and headed in the direction of the kennels.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	2. Miss Badass

Swinging open the doors to the holding pens, a sensor flicked the fluorescents on in the windowless space.

While the lack of natural light was less than ideal, it left fewer openings for those tempted to break in to try and steal their humans back and others hoping to cash in on the particular training of some of the rescues.

As soon as he stepped into the kennel area Castiel was hit with the heavy scent of humans. The Novak facility had a reputation for being one of the cleanest in their prefecture, but even Gadreel’s fanatical schedules of daily baths and near-constant pen cleaning couldn't keep the place entirely free from the musk of men.

While he wasn’t allergic, every time he entered the holding area Castiel found his nose immediately itching to sneeze. Thankfully and unfortunately, he was distracted from the daily stinging of his sinuses by the cacophony of whines and hoarse, wordless calls that greeted his arrival.

It had been three weeks since the raid on the demon Azazel’s pit-fighting operation. The haul of humans from the bust, plus the ones already under their care, had _The Pursuit of Yappiness_ filled to capacity.  

Castiel sighed envisioning the day ahead of him as he reached for the switch on the wall to automatically unbolt the doors between the inside kennels and outside runs.

As soon as the pens' occupants heard locks buzz and the thick metal doors lifted revealing the morning light, two thirds of them scrabbled from their kennels and into the fresh spring air of their external runs. Thankfully this immediately dropped the noise level by half.

Ignoring the remaining rescues' clamoring for his attention, Castiel swiped the notebook on the wall next to the door. He knew the schedule by heart now, but always double checked just to make sure no new notes had been added by Samandriel during his rotation on the late shift.

Assured there was nothing he’d miss, he approached the first run. Seemingly oblivious to the stirring of others, its occupant lay curled in the corner on his pet bed, hidden under the mound of blankets given every carrier for nesting.

“Ash!” Castiel called out over the lingering sounds of the few still barking. Beneath the blankets, the human didn’t even so much as twitch.

“Seriously? Must we do this every day?”

When had he begun talking to humans like they could actually understand him? Castiel didn’t know, but it concerned him. Apparently he’d been hanging around his brothers too much. After all, he was quite familiar with the studies that showed men could really understand only the most basic one or two word commands and even then responded more to tones rather than the actual words themselves.

He was grateful that in another week he had some time off coming. There he could hopefully get his head on straight again. And if he was lucky during this reprieve, not only would he get a handle on his angelpomorphizing of humans, but he also might be able to work it out so that he wouldn’t have to come back into this chaos at all.

For now, however, Castiel shook his head in annoyance as he slipped Ash’s brown leather harness off the hook outside his pen. His ire increased when he saw that someone, Gabriel by the handwriting, had written “Miss Badass” on the harness in sharpie.

Inside the kennel, pulling back the covers to excavate Ash from under his blanket pile, the human hardly struck Castiel as threatening at all. Of course, some of this perception was no doubt the result of the ridiculous (in his opinion anyway) hairstyle that had been imposed on the carrier by Balthazar, the center’s groomer.

Castiel snorted recalling Balthazar's haughty reply when he'd first asked about the style, saying it would tell Ash's future studs that, "while their bitch was business in the front, she was all 'party in the back,' as she should be."

Right now the carrier looked like neither. His long, dirty-blond locks lay in sweaty strands on Ash’s pale cheeks, while the shorter wing-ish hair that normally made a swept-back frame around his face poked out wildly in a dozen different directions.

“Come on, Ash.”

It was only when he nudged the edge of the bed with his foot that the human finally roused. Ash began growling before his bleary eyes even focused. When they did eventually sharpen, rather than look at Castiel, his gaze immediately went to the flatscreen monitor mounted high on the wall of his pen.

Ash’s low rumble increased seeing the monitor was off, the screen blank. Unimpressed by the noise Castiel clucked his tongue.

“You better learn to curb that before Michael takes you home. He won’t put up with that kind of nonsense.”

If Castiel didn’t know better, he’d swear the shiver that trembled the carrier's lean frame was caused, not by the recent loss of blankets over bare skin, but by the mention of his brother’s name. 

Ash's growl didn't cease entirely but it definitely had been dialed back and now sounded plaintive. Unhappy eyes finally flickered up to Castiel only then to quickly return back to the blank monitor. 

The carrier hadn’t come from the pit raid, but had been brought into the into the rescue months before for holding, after being seized in the closure of a crooked casino.

Most of Ash's life had been spent shut up in the casino’s control room surrounded by dozens of screens. Because of this Ephriam, the center’s behaviorist, had decided that having the visual stimulus of one screen in Ash's pen would ease his near-constant anxiety.

“No…” It was Castiel’s turn to growl. “Breakfast and bath first. And I don’t care what Ephraim says, the TV isn’t coming on until afternoon, once you have spent some time outside.”

In response, Castiel got a whine that sounded even more pitiful. He ignored it, crouching down to pull Ash into his harness. Despite the fuss, Ash didn't fight him. It seemed the carrier had finally learned poor behavior with him would only result in the prolonged deadness of his beloved TV.

Simple as humans were, Castiel still didn’t see what Ash could find so engaging about endless hours of soundless animal planet. And it certainly wasn’t as if the human could read the close captions that rolled under the images.

Once secured in the harness with his leash clipped on, Castiel ordered Ash over to the “squat trough” in the corner of his run to take his first piss of the day.

It was quickly became clear the human’s bladder had been filled to close to bursting. Instead of being annoyed by the length of time it took Ash to piss, since he didn’t relish having to deal with his ward’s “messes,” Castiel focused instead on being grateful they’d avoided an accident... And that Ash didn’t seem to require any other relief at the moment.

Still, as soon as Ash was done, before his small carrier cock even stopped dripping, Castiel gave a tug of the lead.

“Alright, girl. Come on.”

Most angels and demons collared their humans around the neck, but Novak policy was that the neck of man was really too delicate to bear long-term collar use. For this reason, and given the negative experiences and instability of their charges, kennel procedure called for full chest harnesses instead.

The problem Castiel found with this, however, was corrective direction wasn’t always quite as immediate and it took another, harder tug of the leash to get Ash crawling out after him. They stopped just outside the kennel long enough for him to pull protective gloves on over the palms of Ash’s tender palms and affix the straps for his knee pads. Another component of human-keeping that most owners regularly forwent.

He had just stood after getting these secured when the door to the kennels swung open. The humans who’d remained inside instantly pressed to their kennel doors and began barking at Gabriel as he pushed into their quarters wheeling a cart stacked with steaming metal trays.

The commotion brought all others in from the outside runs. The racket only increased when Gabriel took the first tray of brown rice, vegetables, and ground meat and clipped it into the second pen’s feeding slot.

“Ash’s food’s waiting for her with Balthazar,” Gabriel grinned as he headed down the row.

“Don’t you mean ‘Miss Badass’?” Castiel called over the clamor, unable to keep the scolding tone out of his voice.

“What?”

It was clear from the smirk Gabriel shot him his brother had heard the comment but was pretending otherwise. Fortunately Castiel knew this game. While he rarely used vulgarities, Gabriel reveled in them and he had no doubt his brother was trying to goad him into calling out the coarse term over and over in ever-increasing volume.

Rather than give Gabriel the satisfaction of this, Castiel pulled a now even more reluctant Ash out of the room after him. A quiet breath of frustration escaped him as he ushered his first ward of the day off to the groomer, leaving  the raucous sounds of the breakfasting kennel and his brother’s teasing grin behind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah castiel and his dramatic exits, but you know what they say... when one door closes, another opens. 
> 
> Translation: next chapter Dean appears...
> 
> Now don't get too excited about successive posts: I had a few chapters done and wanted to get them uploaded before they got lost somewhere.
> 
> My great appreciation to you kind readers who left kudos and comments. Your warm reception of this piece was so encouraging.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	3. Ragdoll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, so this is one of those longer chapters...

It didn’t take Castiel nearly as long as he’d hoped to get Ash squared away with their groomer.

Witnessing the messy, frantic way the rescues gulped down their food always left him feeling slightly sick, so he was disappointed when Balthazar seemed affronted by his offer to stay and help with Ash’s grooming and practically pushed him out of his “shop.”

Fortunately, he'd been able to stall long enough that by the time he returned to the kennels Gabriel had already finished delivering breakfast to all their wards.

Re-entering the holding area Castiel saw most of the pens were empty now. It was standard routine, weather permitting, for each human when it finished eating to be shooed outside and the door to its run shut until its inside quarters had been cleaned.

Having just gotten started with the day’s first scrubdown, Gabriel stood whistling tunelessly in the center of Ash’s pen, hosing down the concrete.

Castiel bent down and picked up Ash’s sleeping cushion from the ground outside the kennel. Gabriel lowered the hose, watching, as he took it and dropped it into the laundry bins alongside the carrier’s blankets.

“She’s not due for a bed wash yet,” Gabriel called over rushing water. “You know, unless there’s an accident, bedding’s washed twice a week. Cushions just once.”

Castiel returned to the open door of Ash’s run, remaining still even when Gabriel feinted with the hose like he was going to spray him. Finally Gabriel sighed and turned the water off.

“Damn, Cassie, you’re about as much fun as Michael these days.”

While he hated being compared with their eldest brother, Castiel refused to rise to Gabriel’s baiting.

“Michael is why her cushion is being washed, Gabriel. She’s not going to need it anymore. He’s picking her up this afternoon. Balthazar said he’d keep Ash in one of grooming's crates so she’d stay ‘fresh’ until he arrived.”

Hearing this Gabriel wiggled his brows suggestively, “Fresh, eh?

“Since she’s never been bred, I wonder if he’ll have Crowley induce a heat in her before they head off? Make her all hot and ready for Mikey’s stable of studs.” Gabriel gave the hose in his hand a lewd twirl. “I know they’ll be eager to ‘welcome’ a new bitch to their pack.” His grin remained wicked but his eyes sharply searched Castiel’s face for reaction.

The mention of Yappiness' one demon employee, the vet, Crowley, immediately left Castiel frowning, but his brows dipped deeper in disappointment at his brother’s words. Crass as he was, Gabriel didn’t normally denigrate their carrier wards. And even though he hadn’t felt particularly attached to Ash, thinking the fate awaiting the virgin human at Michael’s kennel made something twist in Castiel’s gut.

His mind filled with the sudden image of Ash strapped down in a breeding stand while unfamiliar studs forced themselves upon him.

Unsettled, he tried to replace this picture with a more pleasant scene: Ash scampering free, and, despite being artificially heated, wiggling and flush with the heady power of being able to whip all Michael’s normally stoic studs into a frenzy.

Though his expression didn’t change, Castiel’s face grew hot discovering, as uneasy as he felt about either scenario, both stirred something basely inappropriate within him. His cheeks burned even more when he pulled himself from these thoughts and saw Gabriel watching him entirely too carefully.

He cleared his throat to cover his mortification and tried to sound casual. “I’m surprised Michael decided to take her on.” Their brother’s reputation among conformation show circles was legendary, the stock produced in his elite kennel considered only the highest quality.

“She didn’t strike me as the sort of breeder he usually selects. I mean, she’s not particularly pretty.”

“Yeah, not Mikey’s usual for sure...” Gabriel’s usually light tone was stained with a bit of bitterness. “But you know big bro never does anything without a reason.”

This drew a noncommittal hum from Castiel. Gabriel had never kept his opinion about Michael’s motives for participating in the rescue a secret. Unlike the rest of the clan, he believed both Michael’s and their second oldest brother, Lucifer’s, support came, not out of a true desire to help humans, but rather to have access to free, fresh stock to enhance their private kennels’ lines.

While Castiel had hoped his lack of encouraging response would get Gabriel to drop the subject of Michael and his personal enterprises, Gabriel pressed on.

“Well, it seems that since our blue-ribbon hungry brother has ventured into the agility circuit, he’s breeding for brains now.”

Castiel cocked his head slightly to the side, perplexed. 

“Don’t ask me…” Gabriel shrugged in response. “But for some reason big bro and Ephraim seem to think Ash is pretty smart for a human. 'Genius,' I think Ephraim said once.”

Gabriel snorted at Castiel’s still flummoxed expression. “Yeah, I don’t get it either. If you ask me, I’d say Sam’s the clever one. Too bad for Michael his tainted blood made him ineligible for certified breeding.

“And lucky for Sam, if you ask me…” His voice took on a tone of admiration. “Never knew a human to get out of his run as many times as he has.”

A strange expression flitted across Gabriel’s face after saying this. He gave a light “Hmph” and  turned the hose on again, signifying the end of this particular topic and back to the business at hand. “At least with Ash off to greener pastures we have a free pen now.”

“Two.”

“What?”

Castiel raised his voice over the sound of the spray, “We’ll have two runs open. Samandriel requested we move Kevin and Adam in together today and see how it goes.”

Their youngest brother was planning to start his own pack and had purposely kept the two rescued carriers in adjacent runs almost since the first day Kevin had been brought in from the pits.

“Getting greedy is he?” Gabriel clucked his tongue. “Well, I don’t blame him. They’re both pretty bitches. And I’m glad he put his mark on their papers before either Mike or Luci saw them.” He turned the strength of the spray down so he didn’t have to shout.

“Hey, speaking of ‘pretty bitches,’ would you go grab Dean and take her into the rehab suite? Gadreel popped his sour face in here while I was feeding and said Ephraim was running late this morning.

“Car trouble or something. Anyway,  you know how Ephy is about keeping to his schedule, and Gad didn’t want Dean’s contact hours getting cut short. She needs them.”

Castiel’s sibling instincts told him the sly tone peeking out around Gabriel’s words meant he was being manipulated here somehow, but he couldn’t quite figure out to what end. He decided not to examine his internal caution light too closely, however. After all, sitting in the sunny rehab room waiting for Ephraim to show up appealed to him far more than cleaning kennels.

“Yes, I can do that.”

“Great, man. Thanks! Oh, and will you check on the great Houdini for me while you’re back there?”

With a subtle eye roll, Cas nodded and headed off to the quarantine quarters. Personally, now that they had Sam in humbler, muzzle, and mitts, he doubted their _not so little_ escape artist would be getting out of his run again any time soon.

Sneakers slapping against the concrete, he wondered if they’d move Sam and Dean out into the general area now there were kennels free. At this point, there was no reason for Sam and Dean to be in “quarantine.” But initially, with all the general runs filled before, and no new rescues being taken in, the room had been turned into a temporary holding area for their overflow.

An unexpected flicker of anxiety constricted Castiel’s chest at how Dean would handle it.

In all likelihood, probably not well.

There were a lot of issues with Azazel’s seized “pit pets.” But while all his stock had been put through the ringer, Dean’s case was particularly sensitive. Because of this, out of all the humans taken in the raid, they’d put the carrier in quarantine where it was quieter, the smell of studs not so pervasive.

Hesitating before quarantine’s door, Castiel could easily make out the sounds of Dean’s pacing. It was incessant. So much so, they had to keep him in kneepads and gloves at all times excepting his baths.

Squinting through the door’s small safety-glass window he saw the carrier’s swaying, close-cropped blond head. As usual, Dean held his favorite toy in his mouth. The little human ragdoll was actually scruffed at its cloth neck between his teeth. Its loose limbs dangled, flopping about with each of the carrier’s uneven steps.

Although Dean’s head hung down, gaze fixed on the floor, the second Castiel set his hands upon the door, the human froze. And when he pushed in, with its first open inch, Dean instantly darted to the rear of his pen and out of view.

While Castiel’s heart clenched at this response, the reaction was hardly unexpected. It happened any time someone entered the room. Not that he blamed Dean. Gadreel had said that with the history pieced together from Azazel’s records, along with the physical evidence, the human had at least a hundred good reasons to behave as he did.

Rather than head immediately down to Dean's pen, giving him time to adjust to his presence, instead Castiel stopped at Sam’s run.

Since humans were pack animals and complete isolation was unhealthy for them, Sam had been placed in quarantine to keep the carrier company. Sam had also been chosen because Azazel’s papers indicated they were littermates.

Not to mention, he was the only human Dean would relax around. Even with bars between them, putting any other, particularly a stud, alongside Dean, turned him into even more of a wreck.

The decision had proved to be the right one, but not just for Dean: these quarters were more secure than general holding and if Sam had been placed there first, he might have actually made it entirely out of the safety of the center the first time he’d broken out of his pen.

“Good Morning, Samuel.”

Curled up on his pet bed in the corner closest to Dean’s nest, the expression on the lanky stud’s muzzled face when he glanced up at Castiel was clearly unhappy. Despite this, with a grace that belied his bound limbs, Sam rose from his cushions and slunk over to where Castiel stood at the front of his cage.

Watching him move, Castiel couldn’t deny Sam was a beautiful, big thing. Surprisingly tan, tight over lean muscles, his skin was remarkably unmarred, except for the now nearly faded track marks on his arms. And although it wasn’t the usual style for a stud, Sam’s long, shaggy hair suited him.

Found in Azazel’s personal quarters, outside the sickness of his initial withdrawals, Sam had been in far better shape than the rest of the rescues. At least externally.

But who knew what kind of damage had been wreaked on his human mind?

Unlike the the demon’s other stock Azazel hadn’t kept Sam for fighting but equally despicable purposes. The demon had shared his blood with Sam and the pit fighting taskforce had found on his computer, among all kinds of obscene materials, Azazel had repeatedly filmed himself taking the stud’s big knot.

“Disgusting,” Castiel whispered.

Sitting on his haunches at the gate of his run now, Sam shivered and didn’t raise his eyes to  meet his keeper's gaze in curious challenge like he usually did. If he hadn’t known better, Castiel would have thought Sam understood his quiet exclamation and took it personally.

Sam continued to keep his head bowed, but after a span of silent seconds gave a petitioning whimper. A moment later he rubbed his leather strapped face along the bars, making his request even more obvious.

Seeing the dirty food tray still attached to its slot, Castiel realized Gabriel must have re-muzzled Sam after he’d eaten.

“Sorry, boy,” he reached between the bars and ran careful fingers under the strap that spanned Sam’s broad brow, just to ensure Gabriel hadn’t cinched it too tight. “Can’t have you getting out again, now. Can we?”

He hated seeing humans muzzled. However, while he was tempted to unbridle the stud, the last time they’d left Sam’s mouth free he’d chewed through the straps of his mitts, gotten both his hands free, and was working on the buckles of his humbled legs when Samandriel caught him.

Able to slip two fingers under the muzzle’s leather without trouble, reassured the straps weren’t too tight at least, Castiel withdrew his hand. The moment the angel’s touch left him, Sam whined again and stared up from under his bangs with eyes that would soften stone.

“Nice try.”

Castiel’s mouth quirked slightly to the side in sad amusement. “You should save those looks for Gabriel; he seems sweet on you for some reason. Probably because, just like him, you’re trouble...

"Maybe, if you wink those sly, fox eyes at him, he’ll take you out in the yard later and let you run about.” There were no outdoor runs for the quarantine quarters, so its occupants only got outside if one of their handlers took them.

“But only if you’re good, Sam,” Castiel threw in as an afterthought, “and that means no more escape attempts.”

It was only after he’d said that last bit, Castiel realized how he was talking to his wards again: like an idiot, carrying on a one-sided conversation with an animal.

However, either through his body language or his tones, Sam had gotten the message it seemed. With a low, frustrated growl the big stud pulled away from the bars and huffed his humbled limbs back over to his pet bed.

Castiel turned away from the pouting pet, ready to address the real reason for being there now. He’d hoped that talking to Sam, Dean hearing his voice, and realizing who he was, might make things go easier. His stomach sank though when he drew up to the gate of Dean’s run.

Even though he’d handled Dean intermittently for over three weeks and the carrier was familiar with him now, Dean responded as he always did, withdrawing into his nest in the corner. Hunched protectively over his ragdoll, the human was shaking. A light sheen of sweat shone on his pale skin and his still too-prominent ribs made his fright-labored breathing even more obvious.

Castiel glanced away and down to Dean's barely touched food tray. Crowley had been talking about force feeding soon if he didn’t start eating.

Shaking his head Castiel’s eyes returned to the carrier. He refused to lilt at his ward the way his brothers did. He kept his volume low though, his tone warm and gentle.

“Easy, Dean.” Slowly he lifted the harness and leash of the their hook beside the door. “I’m coming in.”

He said this for Dean’s benefit, not out of any concern for himself, despite the human's history. A point that was underlined as Castiel saw Dean’s scarred back curl tighter as he tried to make himself even smaller.

Castiel kept up his sweet talk. “I’m coming in, nice and slow. Okay girl, no need to be scared.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Despite their previous interactions, green eyes, too large for Dean’s face and startling in their intensity, stared back, plainly disbelieving. The carrier’s mouth hung open. Between each ragged pant a broken, wheezy growl rumbled.

Nothing like the noises most humans made, the sound slashed Castiel’s grace to its quick.

Unlocking the run he slowly pushed in. The volume of Dean’s fearful noises hitched only slightly, but  they were all but drowned out by the increased labor of his breathing.

Trying to be both submissive and protective, Dean's eyes flickered wildly from the ground to side-eyed glances that tracked his handler's every step. Around his panting tongue, full lips quivered, fighting not to snarl, readying to snap.

Despite how rabid the carrier might look at times, Dean had learned too well what any true aggression cost and Castiel knew this. “Shh girl...,” he soothed. “I’m not going to come any closer.” Carefully he lowered himself to the ground so he wouldn’t seem so imposing.

He tried not to grimace at how dirty this was going to leave him. The concrete of Dean’s run  was spotted with spilled milk and slick since the carrier not only still had her sac but was lactating too.

In response to Castiel’s sitting, one of Dean’s useless hands pawed his ragdoll closer, further down under his belly. Other than this though, his posture remained tremblingly taut.

Seeing this possessive gesture Castiel promised,“I’m not going to take your toy, Dean...”

As he spoke he frowned at the neurogenic tremors rattling Dean’s lean frame. The energy the human was burning would leave him exhausted soon, before he even got Dean geared up. Although that might not be a bad thing, he decided.

A 'normal,' low, growling whine caught Castiel’s ear and his eyes flickered over to Sam. The big stud sat at rigid attention pressed against the bars as close to his littermate as he could physically get.

“Relax Sam. I’m going to take good care of your girl.”

Sam’s growl slipped into a whine as his gaze scanned worriedly between angel and pack.

“Yes, I know… You care about Dean don’t you.” Castiel still didn’t quite understand the degree to which humans could bond with each other, but clearly Sam was attached to his sibling.

Unbuckling the the harness, Castiel held it open in his hands. “All right, Dean. Come on now, we’ve got to go.”

When Dean didn’t move, but hunkered down, his raspy growls increasing, Castiel exhaled a quiet sigh. As much as he hated what he was about to do, he needed to get the human geared up.

“Come, Dean.” His voice wasn’t loud, but there was no brokering his tone.

Azazel's cruel training had broken Dean. Terrified as he clearly was, Castiel’s concise command worked. Dean immediately fell silent and after one flickering, green-eyed glance at his keeper, the human slithered out of his nest.

He crawled over, pressed so low to the floor, there was barely an inch between the concrete and his belly.

Less than a foot away from Castiel, Dean stopped. A shiver shook the carrier's thin frame hard enough his teeth rattled, but then Dean dropped to the floor completely and rolled over on his back. Neck bared in submission, showing his belly, the carrier forced himself to still.

“Good girl, Dean,” Castiel softly praised. Carefully he slipped the leather over Dean’s arms. As he did, his blue eyes swept over the carrier’s body. Not for the first time he took in Dean’s pale, lightly freckled skin.

Despite the fact Crowley had said Dean hadn’t been feeding a litter for several months, his pectorals were still tight with the swell of milk.

Casteil was seized with the memory how his own chest had ached as the time had grown close for his and Omael’s clutches to hatch. Phantom sensation stirred in him recalling the way his mate had suckled him to urge the milk in.

A bead of of white pearled at the tip of one of Deans enlarged, dusky nipples. The sight made Castiel’s mouth feel suddenly parched; his tongue haunted by the sticky sweet of Omael’s own lactation as he'd returned the favor. The memories sent blood rushing into his cheeks.

Unwilling to look away completely just yet, however, instead, he dropped his gaze. It traveled down Dean’s thin, hairless torso, tripping over the thin lines of pink and white scars until it caught on a ragged, raised slash, that sat low and vivid on the human’s heaving belly.

Still dark-red this scar ran almost from the hollow of one hip to another. It signaled the wreck of Dean’s womb and the start of his constant use by his former master purely as a “bait bitch” for his pit-fighters.

Unable to resist, the angel reached out his hand and stroked the soft skin of Dean’s belly just above the scar.

Castiel wondered if such a simple animal could fully understood what it had lost yet. If Dean did, would it in any way compare to the emptiness he himself was so intimately acquainted with?

His chest tightened painfully thinking about his and Omael’s three different clutches, all expressions of love unhatched.

“Shhh… Easy, Dean… You’re being so good for me. Such a good girl.”

The human trembled hearing his voice and Castiel couldn’t tell if this new palsy was caused by the carrier’s fear or his praise. It didn't matter, Castiel didn't pull away: creatures like Dean needed handling.

Under his fingers Dean’s skin began to pink. 

Castiel's fingertips tingled with the carrier’s body heat. Beneath them he felt the muscles of Dean’s belly try to twitch out from under his touch even as the carrier continued to lay there, silent and submitting.

If Dean did have any sense of what he'd never be able to have again, Castiel considered, given the human’s past life, being rendered barren would most likely be an appreciated reprieve. But this thought dropped away when he lifted his eyes. His still stroking hand suddenly stopped, realization dawning as his gaze settled on the little ragdoll, limbs askew where it lay amidst Dean’s rumpled blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First note: If you're curious, according to the website I looked at Omael is the angel of chemistry and species perpetuation. I liked the cruel irony of Castiel's prior mate being the angel of "species perpetuation" and they as a couple being infertile.
> 
> Second note: If you're still curious... In this AU-  
> 1\. There are no "women." (Never written a female-less fic before. Though to say the "female" is absent isn't exactly correct. There's just no cis women present. It's an peculiar experience. ) 
> 
> 2\. Angel offspring comes from eggs; all angels can lay eggs and it is usual for both to lay eggs at the same time, tend the nest together, and raise their hatchlings together from the start. (Strange, I know)
> 
> 3\. Humans are divided into "studs/seeders" and "carriers/bitches." Both look completely male and, unless tested, the difference isn't really distinguishable until a carrier's heat hits during puberty (between 14-16 in human years). Although as they reach maturity, carriers do tend to be slightly smaller physically and have less body hair than studs.
> 
> 4\. Like our world, in this one Angels age far more slowly than their human pets. So an "angel year" is about seven "human years." (Dean's just entering the start of his fourth year in angel years making him about 22 as a human.)
> 
> Yep...I just keep getting weirder...
> 
> Final note: Caus I'm curious...  
> So far this has all been from Castiel's POV and now that Dean's been introduced, I'm wondering if you'd like to see things from his side. If there's not that much interest, I'll just keeping going a long as I have looking at things from Cas' perspective.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Your kudos and comments have been so appreciated!


	4. Bitch

Bitch’s jaw ached fiercely. His empty stomach gurgled. He ignored these things, continuing to pace. Although he did cast his eyes to the side to shoot a longing glance his food dish. But in order to eat he knew he’d have to set down the pup he carried and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

It was too risky. They’d take his little one.

He knew he was fooling himself; they’d take his babe anyway. Just like they’d taken all the rest. Bitch moved up to the front of his run and stared at the door that led to where the others were. A sad whine churned in his broken throat.

They weren’t safe… his pups. They needed him. He needed them too. And now that he’d seen them, his endless worry for their well being had bored his leaking chest hollow.

The ache of it started to whelm him again, so Bitch did the only thing he knew to: he kept moving. Head down, hips and knees throbbing despite the padding the masters had given him, he resumed his circuit within the confines of his run. Back and forth, corner to corner.

Around him swirled the scent of cleaners and Sam’s kin-scent but they didn’t block out the musk of multiple studs. Bitch’s ears strained to hear them on the other side of the door. More than their worrying scent, however, beneath his nose his pup smelled off.

His little one reeked.

Not the sweet warmth of innocence and newness, but of sour milk and sweat. He gave his babe a gentle shake, hoping to stir a sound from it, but it remained quiet.

On the other side of the door a chorus of excited barks rose. He thought he recognized Benny’s among them. Of the studs he serviced Benny had been one of the better ones, but hearing his excited shouts today, the fire in his veins was absent. Though his cunt remained ready, it didn’t need like it had.

It was nice to be free from that hated hunger, but Bitch knew the reprieve wouldn’t last.

Sometime, probably soon, the masters would fetch him. Lead him behind the thick door where the rest of the pack was caged and strap him back into the bench. At the thought his body betrayed him sending a fresh surge of slick dribbling down between his thighs. An unhappy shiver wracked his thin frame.

Sam caught the scent of slick and distress and sat up on his pillow. The stud had whimpered at Bitch to settle for hours and only settled himself a short time ago. Pressing against the bars between their runs, Sam picked up his cries again whining soft behind his muzzle.

Happy as Bitch had been to be reunited with true pack, his brother’s resumed noise only added to the hot pulse at his temples. He lifted his head long enough to growl at him. At his rebuke, Sam shot him puppy eyes.

Unmoved, Bitch growled again. After their dam died, though they were both still almost babes, he’d looked out for Sam as best he could. But now he had a sick pup of his own to worry over and Sam was a grown stud.

After several long minutes of being ignored, Sam gave a sad huff and laid back down, putting his back to him. Thankfully, with this shift in position, outside the intermittent deep sigh, the stud stopped making his unhappy noises. Bitch sighed himself, though in relief, not exasperation.

Setting his pup down just long enough to readjust the grip on its scruff, he resumed his rounds.

He tried to focus on his hands but the pads on them kept the concrete’s bite away, and he didn’t feel much at all in his forgotten fingers. One palm in front of the other he prowled around and around. Try as he might, his mind kept going back to his others pups.

Then the click of the door caught his sharp ears. Bitch froze. His taxed heart jumped.

_Masters were coming again…_

It didn’t matter that no one here had truly hurt him. _Yet…_ The bottom still dropped out of his empty stomach when the door began to push open. Any thoughts about his own safety were quickly shoved aside: his pup was in danger.

Even though he knew it was useless, Bitch dashed to his nest to try and hide him.

He closed his eyes, pup tucked tight up under his chest. The pressure of the small body against his made him realize how truly sore he was. Tight with milk because his poor babe wasn’t able to latch. The sound of soft soles on the concrete set him panting. Muscles tensing, he heard their keeper address Sam.

It was the master, Castiel.

Although his body remained rigid, it lost the littlest bit of stiffness. Of all their new masters, Bitch liked him the most. The angel was quiet and still and he didn’t try to touch any more than was necessary.

Castiel was softly talking to Sam. Bitch drew in a shaky breath. If he was lucky, this keeper would only be here for Sammy. Unfortunately, luck had never been his strong suit.

Slitting his eyes open at the sound of the angel moving again, he looked up just in time to see Castiel picking up the leather harness that hung outside his cage.

Reflexively he curled tighter around his pup.

“Easy Dean… I’m coming in.”

_Dean…_

His old name still jolted him every time he heard it. Closing his eyes again Bitch shook his head. If he had words he would have begged the angel not to call him that. He wasn’t a hunter or a fighter any more, not since he’d presented. He was “Bitch.” Nothing more.  

Master Azazel had taken such pains, caused such pain, to teach him this. Bitch didn’t dare forget these lessons.

Memories of his training flooded him and the vice around his heart tightened. Air was suddenly hard to find. He opened his mouth, panting heavier. Eyes shooting back open he watched Master Castiel jiggle the latch on his run.

_Don’t make eye contact._

Bitch struggled to keep his gaze averted, but he had to keep vigilant. He was used to harsh treatment, but his pup wasn’t. It didn’t matter that, so far, this master’s spare touches had all been gentle.

A pat could turn into a punch in an instant.

“I’m coming in, nice and slow. Okay. girl. No need to be scared. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The words were said so soothingly. Low and deep. Not at all like the grating singsong tones others used. Still, Bitch couldn’t help a soft growl at the absurdity of them. As long as he’d lived he’d never known an angel or a demon who hadn’t brought pain in his wake.  

Mind spinning back to his pup he couldn’t control his instincts, couldn’t bear yet another loss. He braced himself for the strike as the defensive rumble churned louder in his tortured throat.

“Shh, girl… I’m not going to come any closer.”

The words stunned Bitch more than a lash of a kick would have, but far less than seeing the angel drop down well out of striking distance to sit on the soiled concrete.

What new tactic was this?

It made his temples throb harder trying to figure this master’s angle. Seeing Master Castiel sitting there so still, seemingly placid, only ramped his anxiety higher. Bitch pulled his babe tighter, tucked it further under him. He tensed, realizing his keeper had noticed.

Master Alzazel’s voice ricocheted through his head like a gunshot.

_“Nothing belongs to you! You’re a hole for cock and a bag for babies, Bitch!! Nothing more. You’ll fare better when this gets through your damned thick skull!”_

“I’m not going to take your toy, Dean...” There wasn’t the tiniest trace of scold in Master Castiel’s tone, but what he said cut far deeper than Master Azazel’s remembered rebukes.

_Toy?_

The word set Bitch’s whole body quaking. It wasn’t a ‘toy,’ it was his pup. His tiny, helpless, precious pup. It was sick and now all but smothering under his stomach. Bitch lifted just slightly at the reminder, knowing his babe needed air.

_‘Toy.’_

The word circled round and round in his mind and all the tiny cracks in his fractured heart threatened to split open, shattering it completely.

That’s all they were to their masters. His pups, him, Sammy, every bitch and stud in this kennel: they were all toys. Playthings to be wound up and set against each other. Paid attention to when they were entertaining. Discarded, left lying broken in corners later. Forgotten when no longer useful or when a newer, shinier diversions came along.

These weren’t new thoughts and Bitch knew they were bad ones. Nausea swept over him knowing what the punishment would be if his new masters were aware such things were lodged in his rattled head. Master John and Master Azazel seemed to have known and they’d both tried to break him of them.

He wished he was smart enough to learn their lessons and be free of such terrible thoughts. The ache at his temples was suddenly far worse than it had been. It didn’t help that Sammy was whining again.

“Relax Sam. I’m going to take good care of your girl. Yes, I know… You care about Dean don’t you.”

Bitch gave a quiet huff of thanks when Master Castiel’s words caused Sammy’s worried noises to drop in volume. This relief was short lived, however, broken by the metallic jingle of harness buckles.

“All right, Dean. Come on now, we’ve got to go.”

He didn’t want to leave his nest, didn’t want to lose his pup. Bitch knew he was postponing the inevitable, making things worse for himself, but his panted growls grew in volume and intensity. Beneath him useless hands scrabbled, bunching the blankets up around his babe.

“Come, Dean.”

It was the most forceful tone Master Castiel had ever used with him and Bitch knew in an instant he’d crossed a line.

Given how badly he’d been behaving, he was surprised it hadn’t happened earlier. He hoped his pup was obscured enough the angel might forget about it if he obeyed him now. What’s more, he didn’t want his little one too close when the thrashing he was sure to get began.

Bitch slunk out of his nest glad that for all his earlier worrying about his babe’s lack of movement it would likely stay still. He kept his posture as submissive as possible. That was what masters liked, he’d learned.

His stomach still bore the faded marks of concrete burns. “Medals for proper bitch behavior,” Master Azazel had called them. Earned from lessons in crawling with a boot pressed to the small of his back.

Bitch stopped short of his keeper, unintentionally freezing as he considered what lessons Master Castiel was here to teach him today. Realizing his blunder in not fully completing the angel’s command, he rolled over onto his back, baring his belly in petition for mercy. The angry scar across his pelvis showing there was little more wounding that could really be done to him now.

As he waited, Bitch couldn’t help but tremble and then tremble harder when Master Castiel’s response was a gentle,“Good girl, Dean.”

No hand reached out to grab him by his close cropped hair or slap his sore chest. No cruel fingers caught, pinched and twisted his balls or his cock. Instead, there was only the soft kiss of leather as his harness was slipped over his arms. The chest straps brushed a nipple in the process, loosing his milk. Bitch felt it bead and drip sticky down his side.

“Shhh… Easy, Dean… You’re being so good for me. Such a good girl.”

It took all his will to remain still when Master Castiel’s fingers left the unbuckled harness and began to gently stroke him. Skin starved for this kind of tender touch, it seemed a bright, new kind of torture. His body responded. He flushed with a shame no ‘good’ bitch would feel when the dampness between his ass cheeks increased.

But then again, he’d never been a 'good' anything.

Master Azazel had told him so, many times, So had his first master, John. And now the jagged raised line on his belly stood as final proof of this truth.

Tears filled his eyes. Bitch’s body burned with hotter shame when his new keeper traced a single finger lightly over the scar.  After a few endless moments where he barely dared to breathe Master Castiel’s hand stopped moving, hovering over his badge of failure.

Then it pulled away.

“Roll over, Dean.”

Limbs scrambling before he’d even fully registered the command, Bitch struggled over onto his knees. He stood there shaking, awaiting the next order, but Master Castiel was silent. Strong hands skillfully pulled his harness up and buckled it carefully across tender shoulders.

Bitch kept his head down staring at the floor while he was geared up. Though he couldn’t help but covertly glance from time to time, over to his nest where his pup was snuggled. Still.

He hoped his poor babe was sleeping. Alongside him the angel was still seated, but moving about. With the ‘click’ of the leash being clipped to his harness’ D-ring, Bitch expected Master Castiel to rise, so he spooked when instead he found his food suddenly placed beneath his bowed head.

“Easy…”

“You didn’t touch your breakfast, Dean. And I know you’re hungry.”

The aroma of ground meat and rice wafted up from the dish. It made Bitch’s nostrils quiver but he stayed still, pretending disinterest. He cringed when his stomach rumbled in protest. Master Castiel didn’t laugh at him though.

“Won’t you eat a little, Dean?”

Two fingers dipped into the paste-like meal. They lifted a scoop up to his cracked lips.

Bitch knew this game.

As much as he’d hated it before, the familiarity of it now after so many changes almost made him weak with relief. He sniffed the feed before extending his tongue, licking tentatively at Master Castiel’s fingers, not knowing yet what this master liked.

“There you go. Good girl.”

Encouraged by the quiet praise, Bitch opened his lips and sucked the angel’s fingers into his mouth, being very cautious all the while of his teeth. He massaged the tops of Master Castiel’s fingers with his tongue, suckled on them and tried to pull them deeper in.

“Ah… I knew you were hungry.”

The words were so familiar, but Bitch blinked in confusion when Master Castiel gently pulled his fingers away only to bring them back with another scoop of food.

This wasn’t how it went with his past masters.

Still, he slurped the food down making the loud sloppy noises his other masters always encouraged. Once again, the fingers pulled away only to return with more meal. Despite his mounting confusion Bitch dutifully licked up every portion Master Castiel offered although it didn’t take long for his shrunken stomach to get full.

Finally the fingers pulled away without returning.

“That’s good for now. At least you’ve eaten enough I’m assured you’re not going to fall over in a faint while you’re with Ephraim.”

There was a light tug on the lead as the angel stood. Bitch expected to hear the clink of the master’s buckle, the buzz of a zipper drawing down, but neither happened. Rather, Master Castiel urged him over to squat at his waste trough.

Suddenly aware of how heavy his bladder actually was, Bitch positioned himself, thighs spread wide and pissed. His bladder was still fairly full but his stream stuttered when he glanced up to find cool blue eyes intently fixed on his nest.

Although Master Castiel made no move towards it, Bitch gave a soft whimper of distress anyways. Soft cock still dribbling, he tried to divert the angel’s attention shuffling away from the trough and in the opposite direction of his pup.

“Dean.”

The tone Master Castiel used for his old name and the light tug on his lead brought Bitch to a halt. His head dropped and fresh tears filled his eyes.

“Do you want to take your pup with you, girl?”

Bitch couldn’t help it. His head snapped up and for a moment his eyes met the master’s. Since Master Ephraim had let him take this little one, never once had he been allowed out of his kennel with his babe.

Was this a trick? Was Master Castiel going to let him have his pup with him so they could snatch it away outside of his kennel? The possibility left him shaking, but so did his fervent desire to keep his baby close.

“Why don’t you bring your pup along. It might miss you otherwise. Even with Sam here to watch it for you while we’re gone.”

_There, again… ‘pup’… not ‘toy’…_

Bitch lifted his eyes hesitantly, checking. Master Azazel had liked to tease. But there was none of his previous master’s wicked humor apparent on the angel’s solemn face.

“Here.”

Dean stiffened when Master Castiel stepped over to his nest. Before he could move to protect, the angel bent and lifted his pup out of the blankets carefully, cradling it between both hands in such a kind way.

By the time Master Castiel had come to stand before him again, Bitch was trembling so he could hardly stay upright.

“Easy girl. Your baby’s okay. See?”  

The angel brought it down under Bitch’s nose just like he had the food.

Unable to help himself, Bitch dove in to scent his pup. Licking anxiously at the master’s hands until Castiel set it gently down on the floor. Here, he nuzzled and transferred his licking to his babe, checking it all over, disregarding how sour it tasted.

Once assured his pup was as okay as it could be, Bitch picked it up carefully by its scruff. He lifted his eyes and chanced another wary glance at Master Castiel. The expression on the angel’s face stunned him.

He’d never seen a master look like that.

Bitch dropped his head and looked away again when Castiel cleared his throat. “Come on, Dean. Let’s head down to the rehab room.”

Above him, the master’s voice was even rougher than usual but the tug on his harness was exceedingly gentle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't about you, but 2016 wasn't such a great year... for many reasons. 
> 
> So, I decided I wanted to wait and post in 2017. After all, nothing says "Happy New Year!" Like Hurt/comfort and porn. 
> 
> Where ever you are in the world I hope this next year will be kind to you. 
> 
> Happy reading.


	5. Pandora's Box

Once Dean realized they were headed to the rehab room, Castiel was surprised by the human’s eagerness. Normally Dean stayed warily at heel or more often, dropped back as far behind his handler as his lead allowed.

Right now though, with his ‘babe’ in tow Dean remained right at Castiel’s side. However, the way he shivered and started every time he stepped forward far enough to feel the catch of his leash; it seemed today it was all Dean could do to keep himself from running ahead.

“Easy there, pup.”

Castiel stopped to unlock the door to the rehab suite. As soon as they stepped inside he reached down and unclipped Dean’s leash. Obediently Dean stood waiting but his trembling markedly increased.

“Alright, girl.” When Dean hesitated and chanced an apprehensive glance up at him, a rare smile curled the corners of Castiel’s mouth. “Go on.”

The moment this quiet permission was given, rather than rambling and sniffing about, Dean immediately darted across the room and under a table set at its far end.

Bending down just enough to locate his ward, Castiel gave a quiet snort: Dean was enthusiastically rooting around beneath the table, scrabbling with clumsy paws at the rubber-matted floor to nest. Once satisfied, he set his doll down and moved forward, crouching low at the edge of his new makeshift den.

Posture clearly one of guarding, he side-eyed Castiel warily from the mouth of his 'cave.'

There was still a good deal of unease in Dean’s green gaze, but for the first time since the carrier had been brought in, Castiel noted a timid sort of interest flickering there too. Shifting from paw to paw Dean was clearly waiting to see what he would do.

Were he Ephraim, he probably would have ordered Dean out immediately to start a “re-training” routine.

Thankfully though he wasn’t. Rehabbing pets wasn’t presently part of his job description. No, as far as he was concerned, Dean was fine where he was. In fact, Castiel kind of hoped his ward would stay there. He didn’t really relish the idea of having to throw a ball until Ephraim showed up, or any of the other inane activities generally employed to keep humans entertained.

Glancing down at his watch, he wondered just how late the behaviorist would be. As his eyes lifted, they fell on the folder in the file holder on the back of the rehab room door. Seeing Dean’s name on it he realized Ephraim, in preparation for their session, must have tucked it there last night before leaving.

He hadn’t read the file himself. All he generally he knew or needed to know of the humans in his care was their abbreviated histories. Printed out and tucked into the plastic sleeves attached to the door of each run, these briefs consisted of a couple sentences of when and why a pet had been placed with them, along with lists of triggers and special instructions.

Of course, the longer a human was at the center Castiel picked up additional information from the other shelter workers. Usually this creaturely gossip was more than enough to satisfy his curiosity about their wards. But today…

_I wonder if it’s really as bad as Gadreel says? Might as well give it a read. It will pass the time until Ephraim gets here anyways._

Castiel pulled the file and then closed the door behind him. At the sound of the latch catching, beneath the table Dean crouched just a bit lower. His tongue flicked out to nervously lick his lips.

Noting the signs of the human’s increased anxiety Castiel headed over to one of two couches the room held. He set Dean’s file on a cushion. Then he went to the middle of the room, to the ‘toy box’ Ephraim kept there, filled with all sorts of treats and tools for his sessions. Opening the lid he dug around and found a small, soft-blue blanket. He carried it over in front of the table.

Mindful of how Dean backed up at his approach, without saying a word he let the blanket drop. It fell into a little plush pile at the foot of one of the table’s legs.

In the quiet, Dean’s wheezy pants suddenly became much more audible. A few moments later, back across the room and seated on his chosen couch, Castiel attempted to drown out the carrier’s anxious sounds with the rattling of pages from his packet.

The first thing that immediately caught his attention were the pictures showing Dean’s condition at the time of his rescue. It was shocking really, the state he’d been in. Castiel had seen it firsthand but his stomach still twisted uncomfortably at the reminder of Dean’s dramatically sunken cheeks, his even more visible ribs. But the worst of it was all the wounds he’d carried.

Although Dean was still far from the picture of health, physically he’d already come a long way. Castiel shook his head in awful wonder that anyone, angel or demon could treat one of their Maker’s creatures so cruelly.

A motion caught his eye breaking him from these thoughts. Castiel glanced up to see Dean move forward and pick up the blanket in his mouth. Sensing eyes upon him, the carrier dropped the blanket and froze.

“I thought your pup might like a little softer nest. So, that’s for you. It’s okay. Take it.”

At his first word Dean shrunk down, but by the time Castiel’s quiet explanation finished, some of the tension had slipped from the human’s lean frame. Castiel continued to seek Dean’s gaze, pleased to note the carrier’s look of cautious curiosity returned before the green eyes dropped away.

Dean gave a low huff before he dipped down. Then he carefully picked the blanket back up in his mouth and disappeared back into the shadows of his temporary den.

If Castiel had thought humans were capable of such niceties the noise might have passed as a “thank you,”

* * *

 _Chip #: 12878JMW-17733_  
_Registered Name: Dean_  
_Status: Carrier_  
_Age: 4 years (approximately)_

_Birth registry chip indicates origins at Winchester Kennels. Kennel owners Mariel Winchester (Angel, Deceased) and John Winchester (Angel/Demon, Whereabouts Unknown). In addition to kennel accreditation, John Winchester was a certified human trainer (sport and hunting - largely big game). Ownership papers seized at pit fighting premises show John Winchester as first registered owner. Dean and Sam (#12878JMW-17734) came from the same litter. Designation according to Dean’s chip is ‘hunter class.’_

Castiel’s brow furrowed as he read these first spare paragraphs, his mind filling in the blanks.

Humans used to flush and retrieve game and other service giving activities weren’t physically conditioned in the same ways ‘house pets’ were. For one, they generally weren’t hobbled in their first year, in case they needed the speed that came with an upright posture. With what else he knew about hunter training, this and other differences in conditioning explained Sam’s dexterity, and maybe even accounted for some of his escape skills.

Rowdy as Sam could be, it was easy for Castiel to picture him running through the brush, tracking a deer his master had wounded. Or swimming out into a lake to retrieve a goose fallen from the sky. It was far harder, however, for him to imagine Dean had ever been like that.

Such scenes didn’t pair at all with the terrified, cowering creature they’d pulled from the crate after the raid at Azazel’s.

As he continued reading Castiel understood why Gadreel had once said that, for a scumbag, Azazel had kept impeccable documentation on all of his pit pups. His brother had also mentioned the demon’s compulsivity in this regard was going to be a blessing after the raid on his kennel. All this information counted as evidence, which would hopefully put Azazel away for a long time for his illegal activities and abuse of lesser creatures.

Within his files the demon had recorded his purchase of Sam and Dean as 'studs' from the liquidation of Winchester Kennels. There’d been a newspaper clipping attached, indicating John Winchester sold him the littermates after John’s own angelic mate died in a fire that consumed their home and half the kennel.

As soon as Azazel possessed Winchester's pups they were immediately put into training for the pits. Castiel’s brows dipped even further at the few included photocopied examples of the notes written by Dean’s pit trainers. The regimen of treadmill miles run, lists of exercises, weights and reps, and sparring… Conditioning a human for pit fights was a brutal business.

Once again, it far came far easier to imagine Sam in a fight ring than his sibling. In fact, it was unfathomable to Castiel how a broken beast like Dean could have even survived the training.

Lost deep in Dean’s file, Castiel jumped and sent papers flying as a sudden loud ‘crash!’ filled the room.

Eyes darting around to locate the source of the commotion, he quickly understood that while he’d been reading, Dean had snuck out from under the table and slipped silently over to the toy box. Castiel wasn’t quite sure how he’d done it, but the human had tipped the heavy resin-cast chest over onto its side.

There must have been some force behind Dean’s push, as the lid of the box was off and had slid several feet away from its bottom. Its contents spilled out- blankets, stuffys, and squeakies strewn amidst boxes of biscuits and still rolling balls now littered the rehab room floor. It took Castiel a moment, however, to locate the culprit of this disaster.

Without enough time to dash back under his table, Dean had instead retreated to one side of the room’s other couch. He was hiding, his back end pressed into the corner where the couch and wall touched. Seeing the way he cowered, the angel had no doubt that if there’d been enough space, Dean would have been behind it.

Castiel had half risen in his startlement, but rather than go after Dean or immediately begin picking up the mess, he sat back down instead. In the resumed quiet, above the door the clock loudly ticked off the seconds.

It was a full minute before Dean lifted his head. Trembling, he peered out at Castiel from under long lashes.

When Castiel merely slid further back on the couch and set to gathering up his spilled papers, Dean’s forehead took on a wondering wrinkle. He cocked his head slightly to the side and fearfully watched. Castiel continued restoring Dean’s file, but his hands froze for a moment at the questioning tilt of the human’s head: it was such an angelic mannerism. This and the sudden brightness in the human’s green gaze left him oddly disconcerted.

_Eerie how much they seem so like us sometimes… It’s enough to make one think they’re not really such simple creatures._

Castiel pushed this uneasy line of thought aside. But he was curious. It was clear from how Dean reacted he’d knocked the chest over on purpose. As he pretended to reorder the pages, he watched Dean from the corner of his eye.

He fully expected the carrier to go after the biscuits: most humans were food fiends after all. Castiel figured if that was the Dean’s goal, it wouldn’t be too difficult to snatch a box of cookies away from him before he made himself sick. Besides, given his thinness, an extra treat or two might do more good than harm at this point.

Surprisingly though, once Dean warily extricated himself from the side of the couch, he ignored the food. Instead he dipped down and picked up a stuffy, another little human-shaped doll like his false pup. As soon as he scruffed the toy, in a flash, he was back under the table.

Castiel hummed thoughtfully at these actions before turning back to Dean’s records. Over the next twenty minutes his attention was kept divided between consuming the rest of Dean’s terrible history and pretending to be oblivious to the carrier’s other furtive retrievals from the toy chest’s spilled contents.

Azazel put Dean into his first fight in the human’s second year. These initial bouts were _“mere skirmishes”_ \- battles waged until one of the combatants submitted. What shocked Castiel more than the vast number of times Dean had been ‘pitted’ at such a young age was the tally of his victories.

Covertly watching Dean now as he slunk and ducked under the table with another doll, it was hard to believe this was the emerging warrior in the pages he held.

It was not long into his second year Dean was pitted in his first _“real match,”_ a fight to the death. The number of his battles after this initial victory was smaller, the dates between bouts extended. But Castiel had learned in his time at the shelter this wasn’t uncommon: bloody and brutal, it took the champion of such fights time to heal enough to be fully fit for its next battle.

According to Azazel's records Dean had been the winner of six such matches. Castiel’s mind spun.

_Dean’s killed six other humans…_

This time he couldn’t help but look over when Dean returned to the toybox. The human froze once more when Castiel caught him in the act. His mouth  now held a tiny tiger stuffy.

Dean looked adorable, and, truthfully, ridiculous.  To try and picture him then - wild-eyed, slick with sweat and shared blood was impossible.  Castiel couldn't bring himself to believe Dean could be capable of such violence.

But then…

While being studied Dean had apparently decided Castiel’s stillness was preparation for some sort of pounce. He’d also determined he was not going to be denied the new 'pup' in his mouth. For the first time since he’d been brought in, the carrier’s posture puffed up. A growing fire smoldered in Dean’s gaze that held the promise of a blaze.

Castiel had never seen Dean look so fierce. This intensity was underscored by the quiet rumble of a low growl. Castiel’s brow rose. Blue eyes noting the gathering drops of milk on the matted floor beneath the carrier’s belly, he understood Dean’s growl perfectly.

While he’d determined he would not discipline Dean for his behavior, Castiel knew too he also couldn’t allow himself to seen by the carrier as cowed. So, although he made no move, he held Dean’s gaze. Eventually, once more, Dean’s eyes dropped, but the tiger pup in his mouth didn’t.

Dean stayed still, eyes averted, panting around the stuffy until Castiel finally feigned disinterest with an exaggerated yawn and returned to reading. He’d barely looked at the page when Dean fled. It was amazing how fast the carrier could move on all fours. Dean was under the table again in a moment and didn’t attempt another run at the toy box for several minutes. Castiel took advantage of his ward’s regrouping to read on without distraction.

At the beginning of Dean’s third year Azazel's notes said he'd unexpectedly presented. This first heat came on _“hard and sudden”_ in the middle of his seventh death match. The fight was called off as a draw. _“Although if being fucked to death counts, my new bitch lost,”_ Azazel scrawled in the margin next to Dean’s fight tally. The cost of the draw had been the pick of Dean’s first litter by the owner of his opponent- slash- stud.

After Dean’s bitching the tally of his matches shifted to tracking his litters.

Barely into the file, already Castiel had come to abhor Azazel's swooping penmanship. His loathing of both it and the demon only continued to mount as he followed the notations on Dean’s difficulty shifting from his status as weapon to vessel.

_2/17- “No changed in attitude since the bitch caught. Hobbled her today to keep her on her knees where she belongs. Maleki will do the de-barking tomorrow. I’ll have her teeth pulled if she continues to snap.”_

_2/20- ”Debarking successful, bitch remained subdued today.”_

_2/25 - Hobbled and still took down two of my trainers. Broke her front paws and let the boys beat her as much as I dared without risking the litter.”_

_3/1- “Put her in the bench today. Needed a new settling bitch anyway. Maybe this will drive her new station into her thick skull. Trainers have orders she’s to be confined to the bench until she breaks or pups.”_

Unable to read anymore here, Castiel scanned through the pages to a few weeks later.

_3/22- ”Had to have a new bench special ordered. Regular bench isn’t wide enough to support bitch’s gut.”_

Further down the page

_3/31 - *“Bitch littered today. Two healthy pups. One pale with dark hair measuring in at 8 in. One dark with black hair at 8.5 inches. Both just over 3lbs. Eye color tbd.”_

Not even a week after the birth was this note:

_4/5 - ”Why pay a stud fee? Bitch was bait at the match today. Induced heat and she took seven champions, all strong studs. Hadn’t seen her so pissed in a long time. Settled right down though when Maleki brought her back to her pups. Looks to be a promising breeder.”_

And later...

_4/6 -“Turned Benny loose on bitch today. As long as he left her pups be she let him fuck right into her. Looks like I’m not going to have to get new settling stock to replace her after all. She stays behaving like this we won’t need the bench anymore either.”_

_4/8 - “Put bitch back on the bench. Then took the pups to L---’s to a surrogate until they’re ready for weaning. This way bitch will hit a true heat faster. Got her scheduled to bait a few matches with some real prizefighters.”_

Stomach churning as he quickly scanned succeeding pages, it was clear what he’d already read had become Dean’s routine: as soon as possible, after each new birth, his pups were taken and he was bred again.

In general, human carrier’s weren’t reproductively viable for long (not in comparison with angels and demons anyways). But for the duration of a birther’s fertile years their rate of reproduction could be fantastic. Dean’s record illustrated this perfectly with four litters, twelve pups in total, by the start of his fourth year.

No reputable breeder however, would ever have a carrier seeded as frequently as Azazel had bred Dean. Nor would they have ever pulled his pups before weaning. The demon’s actions were as irresponsible as they were cruel. Even crueler however, was that while carrying, Dean was was made to service all of Azazel's fighting studs. He was false bred right up until labor and then this was resumed again mere days after each birth.

Castiel thanked his Maker for the simplicity of the human creature. No being of higher consciousness could have endured such treatment and remained sane. But regardless of Dean’s mental faculties, his body was clearly unable to keep up with this kind of abuse.

Azazel recorded Dean’s fourth litter of three pups was stillborn. All of them.

Apparently Dean had been fucked into an early labor that quickly went south. One of the trainers opened his belly in an attempt to save the pups but it was too late. A pit vet arrived in time to sew Dean back up, but his womb was too damaged to spare.

The demon’s scrawl here was furious, his writing almost unreadable. This entry was dated three weeks before the Novak center’s raid on the demon’s kennel.

Castiel shut the file closed with a snap and tossed the folder to the other side of the couch with a curse. Below Azazel's note on the death of Dean’s pups, three days later he had the carrier back on the bench daily for settling and was using him to bait every night. The fuck of it all was that in the midst of this, the demon was complaining about bloodstains on the bench’s leather from Dean’s incision.

Lifting a hand to scratch a light itch on one scruffy cheek, Castiel was shocked when his fingertips came away wet. He blinked and his eyes blurred. This time he felt the new tears fall and trail down his face.

_I’m crying over a human? What’s wrong with me?_

He was stunned. Even when his mate left him and he thought he might die from the break in their bond he hadn’t shed tears.

_Maker, I need to pull it together. Foolish to be so moved by the plight of such a base creature._

Still, when he cast a furtive glance at the table and saw Dean under it, the ache in his chest gripped harder.

The carrier had made two final trips out: one to retrieve a doll and then another blanket. Now tucked beneath the table, his bony scarred back was set to Castiel. His nest up against the wall, Dean had curled his body into a crescent, making a fleshly fortress of himself between his stolen stuffys and the rest of the world.

For several minutes Castiel did nothing but watch the rise and fall of Dean’s lean sides. He couldn’t recall ever seeing the carrier breathe easier.

“What the in Maker’s name happened in here?!”

Castiel and Dean both started at Ephraim’s exclamation. Seeing Dean bristle beneath the table at Ephraim’s tone, Castiel kept his own low and calm.

“I was keeping Dean entertained until you arrived.”

“Looks more like you opened Pandora's box.” Ephraim snorted in disgust at the mess. “Fucking disaster of a morning and then I get here to find this shit. I’m not picking this up!”

“Of course not, Ephraim. I’m happy to do it.”

The behaviorist ignored Castiel’s conciliatory attempt. “Where’s Dean?!”

Castiel nodded towards the table. This only served to incense Ephraim further.

“Not again… Maker, Castiel! Stick to cleaning kennels!”

“I don’t understand…”

Bending down when Ephraim caught Dean’s eye he was met with a growl. “Of course you don’t!" He responded to Dean’s noise by shoving the table aside revealing the snarling human.

“I’ve spent the past three weeks trying to keep her out from under this table. And I don’t have hours to humor her today.

“It was bad enough Gadreel made me let her keep that damn doll. I swear. Sometimes I don’t know why I was hired, if you Novak’s won’t follow my recommendations or let me do my freaking job!”

Seeing the confusion still on Castiel's face, Ephraim sighed. “She’s not a mama any more, Castiel. Won't ever be again. Oh, maybe if someone can overlook her history she’ll be a good ‘nanny’ pet for hatchlings. But as long as she thinks she still has a pup that’s never gonna happen.”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t kno…” Castiel’s apology was cut off by the most terrible sound.

At Ephraim reaching for him to clip on a lead, Dean started screaming. Or at least it was as close to a scream as his broken throat allowed.

“Ephraim…” The warning was sounded over Dean’s wails.

“Relax, Castiel.” Ephraim disregarded the noise and Dean’s bared teeth. The carrier’s cries grew louder as Dean tried to simultaneously shrink away from the behaviorist's hand and pull his stuffy hoard closer.

There were half a dozen moments when Castiel was sure Dean would finally lash out and Ephraim lose a finger, especially now that he knew Dean’s violent past.

But it didn’t happen.

Just as he’d experienced himself, when the clasp of the leash snapped onto the D-ring of Dean’s harness, once more it was like a switch was flipped. The carrier fell immediately silent. Gone too was any posture of aggression. In fact, there wasn’t an inch of Dean that didn’t declare defeat.

Ephraim shot Castiel a sad smirk.

“See, nothing to worry about.” He nodded over to Dean’s file. “You read that. And you’ve dealt with her. So you should know by now, no matter what kind of noise she makes they beat all the bite out of her.”

Dean’s blond head dipped as he cringed away from these words and the behaviorist’s perfunctory pat. Each labored breath held a soft whine as he sadly eyed his nest.

At the sharp tug on his leash, it was clear while he might not bite, he still wanted to balk.

“Still, doesn’t mean I won’t have to put up with a mopey mutt. I swear, never met a human that can sulk like this bitch.”

Castiel frowned, watching Ephraim click his tongue and pull on Dean’s leash again.

“Now, girl! Leave it!”

At the sharp command Dean’s body sunk impossibly lower but he reluctantly obeyed and allowed himself to be pulled upright onto his knees.

“I’m going to take Dean and work with her out in the yard. When I come back, Castiel, _that_ ,” Ephraim nodded at the nest, “needs to be gone.”

Ephraim stepped away then, and though the expression on Dean’s face made it look like the carrier was being flayed alive, he finally fell into heel at the behaviorist’s side.

Dropping a treat from his pocket onto the floor in front of Dean, Ephraim cooed with false enthusiasm, “Good girl. There you go.” Dean didn’t even acknowledge the biscuit.

“Suit yourself, pup.”

The behaviorist headed out of the room. Dean drag stepped behind him, soft whines still slipping out with each forlorn look he cast back over his shoulder.

Alone in the empty room, Castiel stood motionless for several moments before he burst into motion. He strode across the floor and slammed the door shut, effectively locking himself in. Caught in a whirlwind of unfamiliar emotions he was too overwhelmed to risk encountering anyone in this state - angel, demon, or human,

_I don’t need this. Never wanted to fucking be here in the first place._

Turning his attention to the mess, he began grabbing up all Ephraim’s scattered accoutrements and hurling them into the righted chest. Balls, boxes, blankets, even the remaining stuffys and squeakies weren’t spared his wrath.

Floor restored, Castiel’s eyes shifted between Dean’s file still laying on the couch, and the human’s exposed nest. Finally, he moved over to the nest and knelt down. The blankets were wet with the carrier’s milk and the cloth of several of the stuffys was sticky with it.

_Great. These all need to be washed now._

Spreading out one of the damp blankets Castiel began to load the soft toys into it to take with him. As he picked up the last one, he stopped just short of depositing it into the blanket. Cocking his head to the side he counted.

_1, 2, 3…_

His breath caught in his throat when he realized there was exactly a dozen dolls.

_Surely this is just a coincidence._

His eyes swept over the pile of plush again. Castiel lowered the black human doll he held in his hand to the ground. His fingers plucked up others, laying them out in little groups.

_This can’t be._

Separating the stuffys out by color, Castiel arranged them according to Azazel’s descriptions of Dean’s litters. There were still human dolls in the toy box but he found himself thinking, in the absence of ones with red hair, Dean had picked the tiger and a small orange monkey to fill in for the ginger twins he’d borne in his third pupping.

Cold filled his core. If he was right, Dean hadn’t been just stealing toys on instinct: he’d built his nest in the rehab room and filled it with every pup he’d ever birthed.

“You’re being stupid Castiel,” he chided himself. “Human memory doesn’t function that way… That’s why Maker put them into our care.”

_Care…_

And how had Dean fared so far at the hands of those he’d been entrusted to?

Castiel carefully folded the corners of the blanket up making sure that all Dean’s pups weren’t in any danger of slipping out. Less than five minutes later he was in Gadreel’s office setting Dean’s nest in the center of his stunned brother’s desk.

* * *

“Come on Dean.”

Going outside was normally hard enough. The sky was always to big now. And the lewd calls to him from the studs in their outside runs made it hard enough to concentrate on his best days. _But having come so close..._

Their training session had been miserable and though the master, Ephraim, hadn’t beat him, Bitch knew the angel wanted to. Had from the moment he came in and found him under the table again.

_Close… so close…_

He knew he’d been foolish to think for a minute that he’d be able to keep his pups. Even worse, his bad behavior had gotten Master Castiel in trouble and had caused him to lose custody the one babe he’d been granted.

_Stupid._

Bitch shivered. This was partly residual from the cold water Master Ephraim had hosed him down with at the end of his training but more, he trembled from his mounting anxiety. What would happen to his sick pup now if it was locked back up in that cold, dark box with the others?

A long, desperate whine escaped him as they passed the door to the rehab room on the way back to his pen.

“Hush.”

This command and a stiff jerk on his harness moved him past the magnetic attraction of the rehab room door though Bitch still felt its pull even as the door to the quarantine quarters snicked shut behind him.

Bitch tensed as they stepped in. When he returned from his training sessions it wasn’t unusual to see Sam’s run empty and the floors of their pens shining with wet spots from the morning’s wash. But to find the master called Gadreel standing at the open door of his kennel was new.

New things in Bitch’s experience rarely bode well for him, and the angel’s stiff posture made him even more apprehensive.

“Gadreel, what brings you down here?”

Trying not to draw any attention to himself, Bitch made sure to stand perfectly still as his harness was unbuckled and he was shuttered into his run.

“Well, Ephraim, I wondered if you’d join me in my office. Something’s come to my attention and I’d like to have a word with you.”

“Any way it could wait? You know the issue I had with my car this morning… I’m running more than a little behind.”

“Sorry, but I’m afraid it can’t. But I promise it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Okay then. Sure.”

Once his harness was off, it wasn’t until the latch on his run clicked shut Bitch moved. He kept a wary eye on the masters in case he’d wrongly read their dismissal. Once he felt more confident in this, he went over to his water bottle and drank while their voices swirled above him.

He was still slurping when the two angels disappeared through the quarter’s other door.

Relieved they were gone and his thirst slaked, Bitch dragged himself over to the corner where his bed lay. He was about to crawl in when he noticed it was different. It was a new cushion and bigger. Not only that, but it held at least three times the usual number of blankets.

He was still puzzling over this when the back quarantine door opened again.

When he saw it was Master Castiel, Bitch forgot all about the mystery of his bedding and burrowed into the pile to hide. Not that he really believed this would save him from the punishment the angel was no doubt here to mete out.

Never had he caused a master problems without consequence.

Beneath the blankets his trembling increased when he heard the latch on his run unlock. An older part of himself was disgusted with his cowardice, despite the fact that it had come hard-earned.

“Dean? Hey pup…”

The softness of Master Castiel’s voice only made Bitch shake more.

_“A bitch takes what it’s given.”_

Master Azazel’s voice began rolling over and over in his mind until finally Bitch peeked his head out from under the pile of blankets, if only to escape the suffocation of his previous owner’s mantra.

“Hey, girl. There you are.”

Bitch whined asking for forgiveness he knew he didn’t deserve. Master Castiel regarded him with an expression nowhere near angry, though this still didn’t negate the possibility of eminent pain.

Even though the angel’s arms were full with a blanket wrapped bundle, Bitch still cringed back into his blankets anticipating the possible blow. Instead, Master Castiel knelt down near his nest, but not too close, and set his burden on the ground.

Nothing could have prepared Bitch for the shock when the angel reached into the blanket and pulled out one of his pups. Tears immediately filled his eyes. Unfortunately he couldn’t hold these back any more than he could the terrible wailing that once more spilled from his throat.

_Please, Please, Master Cas, don’t hurt him. I’ll do anything… Anything..._

He wanted to stop, to be quiet, but the horrified expression on the master’s face just made it worse. Bitch watched, his heart shattering as the angel reached out, babe held carefully in his hands, and set it on the edge of the bed. It was excruciating, but it wasn’t until Master Castiel gave it a nudge towards him and whispered, “go on girl; there’s your pup,” that he snatched it up and pulled it under his blankets.

Its little body was warm! It smelled fresh and clean too!

When Bitch lifted his head and saw a second pup, and then a third set on the edge of his nest, the joy that filled him was terrifying. He couldn’t seem to stop making noise, but his cries shifted from anguish to happiness. Thankfully, the small smile curling Master Castiel’s lips seemed to indicate he understood.

“That’s right. There you go Dean. There’s your babes. Such a good girl.”

Bitch counted off each pup as he tucked it next to him under the covers. When Master Castiel pulled out the last one and it was his dear, sick pup, warm and as sweet smelling as its siblings, Bitch was beside himself. His whining finally faded to licks and snuffles as he checked it over carefully before tucking it beside him alongside its brothers.

Ducking beneath the blankets he touched his nose to each pup, counting again making sure they were all there, and to counter his disbelief that this was real, that his babes were actually with him again. Still stunned but finally assured, he poked his head outside his blankets, trying to think of how to convey his gratitude to Master Castiel.

But when he emerged again, save for the empty blanket his run was empty. The angel was gone. Master Castiel’s absence filled Bitch with a sudden anxiety, but he set this immediately aside when his ears caught the squeaks of his pups so close beside him. No longer the distant cries from the crate in the rehab room that had been tormenting him for so long.

He promised would find a way to express his gratitude later. But for now… Dean sighed a happy whine and curled back into his nest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Dean thinks his stuffies are real. He's a little crazy.
> 
> This is the video I am basing his character on in this fic. If you watch it you might want to turn down the sound on your device first.
> 
> Abused dog gets its first ever kind touch... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiOf2HZmLfY
> 
> Thanks as always for reading and hanging in here with me on my random ass publishing schedule.


	6. Impending

The whine was loud enough Castiel heard it over the low rumble of the Center’s industrial washers and dryers. He turned away from the basket of damp towels he was shifting into an empty dryer towards the source of the sound.

Attached to his harness, Dean’s leash made a dark slash against pale skin where it dangled, the end of it curled on the ground next to him. There was a ring in the wall where he could have  been tethered (should have according to the kennel’s regs) but the angel knew his ward wasn’t going anywhere.

Dean sat, as he had been for the last hour, on a woolly rug just big enough to spare his backside from the cold concrete of the laundry’s floor. Seeing he’d caught his attention, he gazed hopefully at Castiel. When his keeper didn’t immediately say anything, Dean shifted and whined again.

“I know, it’s taking a long time, Dean, but just a few more minutes and then I’ll take you out into the yard.”

Dean’s eyes dropped away and he gave an unhappy huff. He wiggled about a bit more on his rug. Usually quite content to sit at attention, today he seemed to find it difficult to get comfortable.

He’d just finally re-settled himself when the door to the laundry opened. At the sight of Ephraim entering Castiel noted how Dean’s body tensed. The human wasn’t the only one suddenly uneasy at the behaviorist’s appearance. Once he had given Dean all his ‘pups,’ the carrier’s demeanor changed so quickly for the better Gadreel had turned Dean’s ‘rehab’ over to him instead of Ephraim.

Ephraim had been furious.

It didn’t matter that Castiel had protested this decision vehemently, Gadreel’s declaration regarding Dean’s revised rehab had stuck. Made two weeks ago, Dean had been his human shadow at the Center ever since. And the better Dean seemed to get, the angrier Ephraim became.

Right now this rage simmered palpably just below the surface of Ephraim’s impassive face once he entered the laundry and realized Castiel and Dean were there.

“Morning, Ephraim.”

Ephraim nodded curtly before finally gritting out Castiel’s name, looking all the while as though it was painful to say.

“Castiel.”

After a several moments of uncomfortable silence, glaring between Castiel and his ward, Ephraim announced, “I’m sure you’re happy to know I’m leaving the Center for good. I’m only here today to gather my things.”

In other circumstances the rapid rise and fall of Castiel’s dark brows at this news would have been comical but this was no laughing matter.

“What?”

Ephraim snorted at the shock in his voice. “Surely you can’t think I was going to hang around an organization that doesn’t value my experience and professional advice.”

“I can talk to my brother, Ephraim…” Castiel was still stunned by the news. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

Dean shrank back against the wall when Ephraim gestured towards him. “Like you worked _this_ out?

“No, Castiel. It's too late for that. I have already spoken with Gadreel and he supports my decision. Encouraged it, in fact.” Ephraim’s cold tone and stony expression indicated he was not pleased with this at all.

“It seems he’s been thinking recently that he wants to take the rescue’s rehab in an entirely different direction.”

This was the first Castiel had heard of Gadreel desiring to make any changes, not that he was particularly invested. Still, realizing the finality of the situation and now knowing the behaviorist was leaving for good, a sigh of mixed guilt and relief escaped him before he could catch himself. He tried to cover this, offering, “Well, I wish you luck then.”

He held out his hand, Cheeks heating when Ephraim ignored it and pushed past him to one of the laundry’s cupboards.

“No, need for that.” Ephraim shot a haughty look over his shoulder before turning his full attention to pulling out several of his personal compression blankets and the soft fabric binding strips he sometimes used as ‘training aids.’

“I’ve already secured a new post at _For a Good Paws._ They were very eager to hire me, in fact. As were several of the other kennels I contacted.” Ephraim filled his arms and headed back towards the door. “Nice to know there are still some responsible handlers out there.”

Castiel knew _Paws._ It was a solid rescue with a good reputation. He was glad for Ephraim, despite the behaviorist’s rancor.

“Ah… Well done then. Congratulations on your new position and still... _good luck_.” He stepped aside as the other angel moved past him again.

“Keep your luck for you and that broken bitch you’re so fond of,” Ephraim sneered. “Like I said, I don’t need it.”

“I’m not fond…” The behaviorist was gone before Castiel could finish his sentence. Even if he hadn’t left though Castiel would have cut himself off anyways, when he caught the crushed look on Dean’s face.

The angel frowned once again at just how often it seemed his ward really understood what he was saying. And he was finding it harder and harder to push this idea away, as well as its implications. What he wanted to believe, however, was that Dean was simply responding to the physical cues of the situation: that what looked to be sadness was really just dismay caused by his history of abuse and Ephraim’s hostile manner.

Studying the dejected slump of Dean’s shoulders, whatever was going on in his tiny human brain, Castiel knew just how to shift the carrier’s mood. The ping of a dryer's cycle ending sounded then, its timing perfect. Stepping over he bent down and opened it.

“Here, Girl. Your babes have been missing you…”

While the unhappy expression didn’t leave Dean’s face entirely, it lifted somewhat at the sight of the toasty stuffy pulled from the tumbler. Whining softly through his nose, Dean quivered  on his rug, staying as he been told, although it was clear he was barely controlling his urge to dash over.

Castiel took the other stuffies out too, carefully, well aware of the intense eyes fixed on his every movement. Once his arms were full of plush, he crossed over to where Dean sat and knelt down.

“Such a good ' _stay_ ,' Dean.”

Dean ignored the compliment and huffed anxiously, eyes hawk-like on his handler as his dolls were gently laid down on the rug one by one. Immediately he dipped down to sniff them. His snuffling shifted from concerned to content as his nose brushed the sweet-smelling warmth of his babes’ stuffed tummies.

Once Castiel felt sure Dean had given each of his plush pups sufficient greetings, he pulled out one more thing that had come from the dryer.

“Okay, Girl. Up!”

Though reluctant to lose contact with his wee pack, Dean obediently lifted his torso until he was kneeling upright.

“Good.” Castiel praised again, slowly stretching a hand out to ruffle messy bangs. Tangling his fingers through lengthening locks he hummed, “I probably need to get you scheduled for good grooming soon, huh?”

Dean pressed into the tender touch and only stiffened slightly when Castiel’s hand slipped down along his neck. The angel’s fingers trailed down even further to trace the outline still visible from the milking cup’s suction that had been used on him earlier. He pressed carefully around the swollen nub of a nipple, testing the hardness of Deans’ pectoral.

When he’d first started having the carrier milked to keep Dean, his run, and his pups cleaner, it had taken six pumpings a day to keep his leaky teats from their dripping. Now they were down to two.

“Looks like I should adjust the strength of the cup…” Castiel murmured to himself as he followed the fading pink marks. “Decrease the pressure a bit.”

Beneath his stroking fingers, he noted how hot Dean’s skin was. Much warmer than normal.

Although the carrier’s chest didn’t feel particularly full, Dean panted and made little breathy sounds as his flesh was carefully kneaded. His nipples had always been sensitive, but the blush so quickly spreading over his pale skin and the small whimpers he was clearly trying to stifle were unusual. Castiel wondered if he shouldn’t have their vet look him over as he took the freshly washed and dyer warm “babe bag”and began snapping the soft fabric sling to the rings of Dean’s harness.

Once every clip had been fastened, he picked up each one of Dean’s plush pups and settled it into the small hammock that now hung down from the harness. If Dean’s pups had been flesh, the babe bag would have not only allowed him to carry them with him as he moved on all fours, but it would have also kept his pups in contact with his skin and given them access to suckle as they needed.

Once all his babies were properly pouched, Dean dropped back down to all fours. Castiel admired the way the sling hung down. It made it easy to imagine how the human would have looked when he was heavy with a litter. The thought sent a bolt of longing through him, triggering his own unresolved paternal instincts. He was pulled from this only when Dean crawled forward to the edge of the rug and Castiel noticed the large damp spot left from where he’d been sitting.

“Damn it.”

Dean cringed and curled inwards at the curse. Castiel reached down to gently card through his hair again.

“It’s okay, Girl. This one’s on me.”

Despite this assurance Dean’s expression was wary as he shuffled off the soiled rug. Castiel gathered it up and tossed it into one of the hampers. He ”tsked” in annoyance with himself as he did so because, since he’d begun spending so much time with Dean, the human hadn’t ever had an accident before that he knew of.

In fact, when it came to doing his business in the proper places, Dean was normally quite fastidious.  Glancing down, uneasy green eyes stared up at him, the color on Dean’s cheeks hectic: the carrier was clearly ashamed.

“You’re okay, Dean.” Castiel gave him another reassuring rub. “Poor pup. I shouldn’t have made you wait so long before taking you out.”  He tried to ignore how his words and his touch made Dean lean shyly into him.

“Alright… Come on, Girl…” He picked up Dean’s leash and led him outside.

* * *

Bitch crawled the perimeter of the exercise yard.

Even with the pads on his palms and knees his progress was slow. All the years of training and the abuse he’d suffered left his body with far more aches than many humans his age. Of course, his trek was often paused too when the urge to stop and glance back at the canopied nesting box where his pups were currently secured, even though he’d left his keeper by it to guard them.

Looking over at Castiel now, the angel met his gaze. Like usual, he didn’t smile but his eyes were still kind. Bitch turned away quickly pretending that a particular bit of grass had caught his attention, his vision blurring with tears. His chest still hurt. Not from the milking but from hearing the angel wasn’t fond of him.

Seeing those soft blue eyes only made the ache worse. 

Of course, he should have known better; it had been foolish to think Castiel might actually like him, to nurture the hope the angel might someday make him his pet. After all, Bitch knew he was a useless, scarred, mess of a mutt and someone like his keeper would surely only be interested in refinement and quality.

Lowering his head to the soft warm grass and letting his body follow, Bitch slumped down to the ground. Even though the air was mild he felt hot. The grass so soothing against his skin yesterday, today made him itchy.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his wet cheeks dry in the clover, promising he would put an immediate end to the images he’d let loose in his mind during his solitary hours in his run when his pups were snoozing.

Yes. It had to stop. Those hazy pictures of belonging to Castiel, living a quiet life in the angel’s home with his litter.

There would be no more musing on what it would be like to spend peaceful evenings sitting by his keeper’s knee while the angel dined. Or how well he might sleep, curled up on a his own pillow on the floor of his master’s bedroom at night where he could listen to his pups and Castiel quietly snoring.

 _Stupid Bitch,_ he chided himself. _No more._

But even as he silently swore it, Dean knew the promise was as good a broken already.

* * *

Castiel drew a deep breath relishing the fresh air away from all the institutional and animal smells of the Center. It was quieter here too, in the smallest and most remote of the exercise yards.

Nodding to Dean when the carrier looked back at him, he silently assured he was still on duty. He watched as Dean, content his pups were still safe, returned to his investigation of the yard for a few more moments before flopping down to enjoy the warm late spring sun.

Normally Castiel found a surprising amount of pleasure in watching his ward nose about on their outings, but today he felt more concerned than anything. Dean seemed somehow off. Even now, rather than rolling around, enjoying the feeling of grass on his bare skin, instead the carrier lay still and quiet.

Sweeping careful eyes over Dean’s harnessless body, now familiar with every freckle and scar, Castiel couldn’t see anything amiss. In fact, if anything, his charge looked better than ever. Dean was still lean but with ribs no longer so prominent, scars fading, and his skin starting to take on a healthy shine.

Blue eyes traveled another circuit, stopping on the human’s face. Dean’s eyes were closed but he didn’t appear particularly peaceful. His long lashes looked separated and sticky, his cheeks wet. It wasn’t uncommon for the carrier’s eyes to leak, but they’d been much drier recently. Seeing Dean exhibiting again such a visible sign of discomfort made something clench in Castiel’s chest.

Then long eyelashes fluttered and opened slowly. Their gazes met but Dean didn’t stir. The depths of emotion Castiel saw reflected in the green pools of the human’s eyes stole the breath from his lungs.  

“Yo, Cassie!”

The sound of his name being called jolted Castiel’s nerves just as much as the metallic “clank!” of the latch on the yard’s gate. In an instant Dean was up on his knees and moving towards his litter. Turning, Castiel faced his disrupter, frowning when Gabriel winked at him and bent to unclip Sam’s lead.

“What are you two doing skulking about out here?” Gabriel grinned. “I thought Sam and I were the only ones playing hooky from chores.”

Rather than answer, Castiel watched Sam lope over towards his littermate. The long-limbed human stopped short though when Dean growled at him and positioned his body between his brother and the nesting box, warning Sam off.

“Best listen to your brother, Samsonite, if you want to keep all your limbs!” Gabriel called out.

Castiel noticed that Sam was muzzle free today and wearing far fewer restraints. He cocked his head to the side. “Why isn’t Samuel properly kitted? I thought it was against Center regs to let an escape-prone human off leash, unhindered."

“Are you seriously calling me out, Mr. Rule Bender?” Gabriel nodded his head at the bare naked Dean, who wasn’t even sporting a collar at the moment. “Like that's up to regs?

"But, no, to answer your question... It’s my own _therapeutic approach_ for our troublemaker.”

His brother pointing out his hypocrisy had brought a blush to Castiel’s cheeks, but he ignored it when he caught Gabriel’s last sentence.

“You knew Ephraim was leaving?”

“Yeah…” Gabriel grinned watching Sam trying to play with his brother, bouncing around in front of him, bumping Dean’s shoulder. “And good riddance. The guy’s an asshole. Gadreel should have canned him years ago.”

Castiel stared at his brother as he cast his mind back to the day he’d gone to Gadreel about Dean and his stuffed pups. The more he thought about it, the more serious his expression became. For several minutes Gabriel ignored him watching Sam provoke and Dean half-heartedly snap back at him. Finally he turned to face a pair of piercing pale eyes.

“What?”

“Did you set me up, Gabriel?”

Light brown brows rose and Gabriel’s eyes widened in an expression of shocked innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Little Bro.”

“Then let me re-phrase my question. You set me up, Gabriel.”

“Uh, that’s not a question.”

Castiel’s face remained expressionless in response to his brother’s uncomfortable grin. “You’re right. It’s not.”

“Man, you’re getting paranoid in your old age.” Gabriel returned his attention to the squabbling humans out on the lawn, though he kept darting sly glances Castiel’s way. “I mean… That’s a big accusation.

“Not to mention, it would entail me believing Gadreel would pull something from comments you made that he’d been ignoring from me.

"Then, _me_ getting _you_ to spend time with Dean you wouldn’t normally without Ephraim’s interference... Feeling sure you’d make some particularly astute observation others had missed.

"And, finally, you being a big softie, despite your stoic facade.

“That’s quite a few moving parts with a lot of supposition thrown in.” Gabriel added after ticking his points off on his fingers. He smirked, and nodded over at the littermates. They had both stilled and Sam was now intently, if cautiously, sniffing around his brother.

Gabriel sighed.”I think you’re giving me too much credit, Cassie. I mean, I’ve been known to pull a string or two in my time, but…

“Next thing you know, you’ll be accusing me of conspiring with Gadreel to make you take Dean and foster him through his upcoming heat at your house; so it’s not so traumatic for him when I take Sam home tomorrow.”

“Wait… What?” Castiel’s face became animated at last, as he processed all the information his brother had just so slickly slipped him. “You’re adopting Sam?”

“What can I say?” Gabriel shrugged and smiled. “I’ve grown attached to the moose. Just like you’ve gotten attached to Dean.”

“I’m not attach…” Castiel stopped; his brows dipped in concern. “What do you mean, ‘impending heat’?”

Gabriel didn’t say anything, he just nodded over to where Sam was vigorously scenting along Dean’s hip, his nose getting ever closer to his ass. The carrier turned his haunches away from his brother’s inquisitive nose but Sam was clearly intent on getting to the source of Dean’s scent.

“Shouldn’t you call Sam away?” Castiel reached for Dean’s harness, ready to whistle.

“Nah… Even with Sam’s tainted blood, he’s probably not going to cross over their kin scent. I mean, he might get friendly, but I doubt he’d mount her. Besides, I bet your pup can take care of herself.”

Before Gabriel could add anything else, the air was filled with a loud harsh bark, a “whack!” and a higher pitched yelp. “See what I mean?” 

Sam now sat on his butt in the grass, a mittened hand covering his face where Dean had smacked him. When the stud sneezed at the sting in his nose, Gabriel laughed and called out, “Serves you right for getting fresh, Sam’o!”

 Dean had turned his body again and was stepping away from Sam. From where he stood Castiel saw now the shine in the carrier’s crack, the glisten of wet balls. He realized, feeling slightly sick, that Dean probably hadn’t had an accident earlier: the stain on the rug had likely been slick, not piss.

Gabriel dropped his voice, still snickering as Sam rubbed his snout, “Like I said, ‘impending.’ If Dean was in full heat, she likely would have let Sam lick her out, even though they’re kin.”

“But I thought…” Before Castiel could finish his sentence, the gate behind them jangled again.

Something twisted tight in his gut when he saw Gadreel coming into the enclosure with the big stud, Benny, leashed up and at heel beside him. Old Bobby trailed along loose a fair bit behind.

“Did you tell him?” Gadreel’s eyes flickered between his brothers as he unclipped Benny’s leash.

“I was getting there,” Gabriel sighed, reaching out to rub a hand over Benny’s shaved head.

The former fighter grinned up at him before pushing into the touch. As was common in many pitfighters Benny’s previous masters had filed his incisors down to sharp points rendering his smile vampiric.

“Gonna miss that grin when they cap those choppers next week.”

Gabriel pushed Benny’s head away now, urging him to go play. Benny butted his thigh a few times with his massive skull seeking more scratches before uttering an annoyed huff and lumbered off.

Gadreel watched Benny move over the grass towards the others. He didn’t crawl as most humans did, but moved on hands and feet in a simian manner.  This was another commonality among humans raised in the pits, this conditioned manner of moving much better suited for fighting.

“It’s for the best. You know that, brother. He's more apt to be adopted once they're fixed.”

"So you say... But I see you still haven't strapped him into a humbler yet. That'd help him get adopted too, losing that ape gait of his." Gabriel eyed his older brother knowingly. Gadreel didn't respond, just rolled his eyes in annoyance before turning his gaze on their wards.

Now recovered, Sam had left his cranky sibling to meet Benny. The pair stopped a few feet apart to size each other up. Fortunately, despite both their pasts, the two studs were remarkably good-natured and within a matter of moments, friendly shoulder bumps had been exchanged and the pair were playfully wrestling.

Shifting from the tussling studs, Gadreel turned his attention to Castiel. “Well, since we're discussing what's best here... In regards to Dean… Surely you’ve noticed she’s heating. I want you to take her home with you tomorrow and foster her until she’s through it.”

Castiel shot a fierce glare at Gabriel before answering their older brother.

“No, Gadreel. I won’t take Dean. I don’t want that responsibility. Didn’t want what you’ve already given me.” Seeing the set of Gadreel’s face he added, “Besides, you know I have the next two weeks off.”

“Which is why you’ll be taking Dean." Gadreel spoke in his best "big brother" tone, completely ignoring Castiel’s protests. "It’s perfect.”

He reached down to pat Bobby’s shoulder. The older stud had settled next to him, leaning up against his leg, showing absolutely no interest in interacting with the other humans at all.

“Gabriel is taking Sam home tomorrow. That separation will be hard enough on Dean without the added discomfort of her heat. It’s her first natural one since the rescue and given all her trauma she’ll need a safe and peaceful environment. Stud free too.”

Raising a hand, Gadreel cut Castiel off before he began arguing. “You’re good with Dean, Castiel. She’s learning to trust you. Disappearing on her now would damage her progress. Maybe irreparably.

“And I know all you’re going to be doing on your break is skulking about that nest of yours.

“Dean will not only be good company for you, but she’ll be a healthy distraction. You need something to care for, Brother.”

Castiel’s ears burned at Gadreel’s declarations, particularly the last one about him isolating. Perhaps he might have hermited about his home after his mate had first left him, but he had other plans for this respite, ones that were far more proactive.

And if he accomplished what he intended, he might not have to come back to the kennel at all by the time his break ended. However, he was not about to share this information with his brothers right now.

His eyes drifted towards Dean. Benny had made his way over to the carrier and was sniffing him intently. Sam, meanwhile was keeping a respectful distance. Dean was tense, growling softly, but still far more amenable to Benny’s attentions.

Had Benny’s cock not been caged, Castiel might have intervened. As it happened, he needn’t have worried. Similarly to what had happened with Sam, Dean edged his hips away from Benny’s inquisitive nose signaling disinterest.

Maybe hoping to warm Dean up a little, the stud extended his tongue and licked Dean’s flank. The carrier froze at the touch, then his whole body started to tremble. Benny shifted a little further south and lightly nipped the side of one of Dean’s ass cheeks.

What was happened next caused all three angels to start. Dean gave a  loud, harsh, broken bark. Then the two humans exploded into a sudden tangle of limbs.

“Dean!”

Heart pounding at the possibility of Benny injuring his ward, Castiel ran towards them without even being aware of what he was doing. Before he reached them though, shockingly, within seconds, Benny was flat on his back, Dean sitting on top of him growling loudly.

It happened so fast Castiel hardly had time to process what he’d just seen, but there was no doubt with the speed and ferocity with which Dean had upended the big stud, he’d just gotten his first glance at what he had been like as a fighter, before Azazel had broken him.

Benny’s thick limbs flailed a bit but Dean managed to keep him pinned. He set his mouth against the stud’s throat, pinching, but not breaking the skin. After a few seconds, Benny surprisingly submitted. Not only that, but as Castiel drew nearer he heard the big male chuffing and saw Benny’s smile.

If they’d been angels, it would’ve seemed Benny was laughing at the feisty bitch atop him and his own defeat.

* * *

Bitch’s heart pounded so loud in his ears it took him several seconds to hear Benny’s wheezy chortles. When it registered, he slowly loosed his teeth from the stud’s thick throat and sat up. Twinkling eyes and a familiar, sharp-incisored grin greeted him.

Benny had always been the best of his stud’s at Azael’s, using him, but never in the same harsh way so many of the others did. Seeing him laughing at being toppled should have set him at ease, but instead his heart rate only ratcheted higher.

Looking away from the amused stud, Bitch saw his fingers flexing through the wiry fur on Benny’s chest, his hands holding the stud down. Over the din of his blood he heard his keeper call out his other name.

If Master Castiel saw his fingers working he’d be thrust back into mittens. Bitch’s fingers curled reflexively into paws as fear gripped him. Worse than this offense, however, he had just rejected a stud. Not just rejected, but lashed out.

With a whimper Bitch slid off of Benny immediately.  

Seeing Castiel still heading towards him, he curled in on himself and pressed his body close to the ground anticipating a rain of blows. He heard Benny shuffle back up onto his hands and knees but didn’t dare look at the stud.

The urge to present in penance was all but overwhelming and yet he couldn’t make himself move.

“Go on Benny. Away!”

The anger in Castiel’s voice made Bitch shake harder. He ducked his head and yelped on reflex the first time his keeper touched him, even though the angel’s hand was exceedingly soft.

Memories of the pits, of Master John’s training, of his past studdings overwhelmed Bitch’s mind. As his new keeper “tutted” softly and ran tender hands over hot, sensitive skin, the contrast of now and then was too much. Air rushed into tight lungs and he broke down in hoarse sobs.

“Easy there, Dean…”

At the soft solemnity in Castiel’s voice he looked up through his tears in utter confusion. This wasn’t how it went. He’d been a bad bitch. The worst… Snapping at Sam was to be expected, but Benny…

Still, instead of beating him or being hauled off to a bench and strapped down, he was hauled into his keeper’s arms as Castiel sat down next to him and pulled him between his splayed thighs.

Locked into the horrors of his past and terrified of this unpredictable present every muscle in his body tensed. Bitch didn’t dare rebel now. Not that he could have, too stunned by the strong arms around his shoulders, the firm but gentle hand on the back of his head pressing it under his keeper's jaw into the crook of Castiel's neck.

“Shhh… It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Even though he knew he wasn't to cry, hearing these words just made Bitch weep harder. The embracing arms tightened around him, but just for a moment. Then skilled fingers were soothingly rubbing the fine, damp hairs at his nape. Thankfully Master Castiel didn’t offer and more words. 

* * *

Humming softly over Dean, his body minutely rocking them, fury filled Castiel’s chest as he held the broken human in his arms. First, at his brothers for bringing their studs out knowing Dean’s condition. Then at himself for not having put the pieces together earlier.

He was also infuriated at the way they’d forced his hand here, because after seeing what had just happened there was no way now he was going to be leaving Dean at the Center to navigate his heat on his own and they knew it. He lifted his gaze from the trembling carrier in his arms.

Sam had sought Gabriel out after Dean’s attack on Benny. Gabriel was snapping Sam back on his lead, while shooting sly glances back at him and Dean. Benny, likewise, had responded to Gadreel’s whistle after Castiel had shooed him off.  Still off leash he was now tormenting Bobby with nudges and bumps, while evading Gadreel’s attempts to get him back on leash too. The big stud finally stilled when Bobby got after him, catching a hard nip to a broad shoulder.

“I’ll schedule a grooming with Balthazar and and a release vet check with Crowley for you.” Gadreel called out after he’d wrangled Benny back on lead. Once tethered Benny settled immediately.

“And when Dean gets to the end of her heat, Sam and I will come over for a playdate,” Gabriel added with a smirk before clicking to Sam to follow him.

Watching his brothers leave the run  with their studs Castiel he cursed. Neither of them even had the decency to look the least bit guilty for what they’d just forced him into. Beyond this however, there was a much deeper rage. Black and tumultuous, it coiled and crashed in Castiel’s torso like nothing else he’d ever experienced directed at the monsters that had treated Dean so terribly.

He’d read Dean’s file, watched his ward's woundings play out over the last few weeks as he’d worked him. But the way Dean had responded first to Benny and then to his own approach… The look in Dean’s eyes, the way he cowered and trembled.

Castiel had seen every scar on Dean’s body but seeing that and the way the carrier cried in his arms now, he was finally comprehending the true depths of the cruelty Dean had experienced.

Left alone in the yard again, he shifted Dean, pulling him with his as he lay down, stretching out in the sweet-smelling cover. The carrier stiffened but didn’t balk. Once they were both prone, Dean still tucked protectively against him with his head on his chest, Castiel stroked down his bare, scarred back.

While incredibly pissed at his brothers, he’d never hated anyone as much as he hated Dean’s previous keepers right now. _Not keepers, torturers,_ he thought as he continued to hum and softly pet Dean.

“Go ahead, Dean. Let it out… Carrier you may be, but there’s no reason for you to be so heavily burdened. You did nothing wrong. You’re a good, pup. You didn’t deserve what’s been done to you...”

He rewarded Dean’s renewed tears with soft nesting noises and even softer touches while keeping his ward tucked tight against him. Not conscious at all that he was comforting Dean not like a pet but the way he would another angel.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Castiel... Not fond. Not attached. Just keep telling yourself that.
> 
> Also, after I posted that last chapter about Dean and the toybox, the very next day I came across this video... http://www.onegreenplanet.org/news/rescued-dog-gets-first-toy/ It fit so perfectly I thought I'd it with you.
> 
> Anyway, the love this fic has gotten has amazed me. Thank you for the extraordinary comments and all the kudos too.
> 
> Hope you're looking forward to seeing Castiel and Dean's trek to Castiel's nest and their first interactions together there as much as I am.


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